The Chong Sheng Trilogy: Peace
by Dorkness Rising
Summary: Sequel to "War." Ba Sing Se is destroyed, and the invasion plans are in shambles. Aang and his friends must win back the stronghold of Omashu against nigh impossible odds if they are to have any hope of success. Zutara, MaiLee, Sukka.
1. Quarantine

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

Author's note: I'm altering the timeline of Sokka and Katara's childhood a lot for this book, as I had my own in mind, and this story is so AU already that a little more certainly can't hurt.

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The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 1: Quarantine

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She was used to heights.

She was used to feeling weightless and balanced and at the center of the universe, all eyes on her and no one else. She was used to performing for others' entertainment. Putting on an act. Pretending not to be scared even when doing some of the craziest feats in the history of Fire Nation popular culture.

"You never gave me an answer. What did you do when you found him?"

"I don't know. I...I found the cute one first..."

The top edge of the balloon's basket dug into her back, and she felt her weight tip further over it. The vice-like grip on her neck tightened, cutting off her words and making her lungs plead for air with desperate heaving.

"The cute one, hmm? Then she found my target before I did and failed to tell me, didn't she? And you're protecting her."

She couldn't answer, even if she'd been able to breathe. But the point was pretty moot as those slender talons squeezed harder. Her mouth locked open in a pitiful attempt at getting oxygen, realizing with rising panic that her vision had already darkened.

"It takes the average human five minutes to die this way."

Her heart was starting to pound, body beginning to slack and mind starting to haze over. As though she was falling asleep against her will. Only ten times more frightening because she knew she wasn't going to wake up.

"Are you above average?"

She could barely hear her now. Her mind was a million miles off, caught in an Ember Island ripcurrent and trying to swim back to shore and panicking because all her fighting was only carrying her further away.

"Below average?"

Further away, if it was possible. Treading water and floating out to sea. Possibly to be eaten by tigersharks.

"Perhaps we'll find out the next time you defy me."

She was suddenly pulled forward, back into the basket. The grip on her throat fell away, leaving her kneeling and coughing violently and rubbing her neck, shaking with both panic and the rush of oxygen. She finally looked up into those cold amber eyes, her own blurred so thick she could barely see her.

But she didn't need to. She knew that scowl anywhere, and it told her everything she needed to hear.

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No one knew what to say to him. There were few things _to_ be said to someone with the deaths of millions on his conscience that wouldn't serve to make things worse. And so useless, clumsy words were traded for the silent comfort of knowing that those closest to him were still alive. But all of them knew, even as they watched Suki and Toph pull him away from the wall a convulsing, hysterical mess, that such consolation would be very short-lived.

And so Zuko found himself doing naught but staring at the fire he'd started before the chill of the underground really set in, both of temperature and dread, trying his damnedest not to think about what the tremors filtering in from the surface all the way to the rock beneath his feet meant. He only noticed someone had joinerd him when he heard the rustle of clothing in the darkness, not even having seen the person's shadow. He looked over, startled, before his nerves settled at Katara's familiar presence.

She looked as weary as he felt, sinking down next to him and holding her hands out to the fire to warm them, body tense and rigid with the cold all around them. He heaved a soft breath, stoking the blaze a bit and venturing the question. "How's your brother?"

"He's sleeping finally," she murmured. "Toph and Suki are with him now."

He relaxed a bit at that, frowning a long moment before speaking again. "It's...really not his fault, you know. He didn't give them the schematics on a silver platter."

"I know," she said shakily. "But he won't see it that way. He's... He's always been like that."

Zuko frowned, looking her over as she fell quiet, staring into the fire with that glazed over, faraway gaze that he knew meant her mind was not with her body any longer. The same look she'd been drifting in and out of since the bombing started.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Besides the obvious."

She shook her head. "N-Nothing..." Her arms folded under the blanket with a shiver. It surprised him at first that someone whose childhood had been spent on an iceberg would find this cold, but it wasn't the same kind of chill as at the Poles. Not an exhilarating, wind-whipping cold that energized and made him feel free and wild. This was a dark, creeping chill that robbed warmth and strength right out of the limbs. An oppressive, shut-in cold that made even his chest tighten a bit.

He sighed, moving to pull the blanket up further on her. "Here, you're freezing." He pulled the blanket more around her feet, huffing a hot breath into the folds to trap the warmth against her. She huddled more under it, muttering a thanks. Her only acknowledgement she was even aware of his presence.

He swallowed thickly, stoking the fire a bit more and getting the kettle and pot ready for tea. Her shivers began to drop off into stillness, giving way to exhaustion he could just about see in her face. Eyes drifting closed and breathing starting to slow. The kettle's whistle barely roused her as he took it off the fire to pour her a cup of chamomile.

"Here, drink it. It'll help you rest."

She nodded in thanks, having gone quiet again and let the cup warm her hands before sipping at it. Her face was still blank, as if she was staring through objects rather than at them.

He swallowed thickly, that look on her face unnerving him, even more than her date with Bending Sickness had. "Are you sure you're alright?

She nodded, not losing her expression. He wasn't even sure she'd heard him or not as he reached for her shoulder again. "Katara?"

She didn't flinch, though to be fair she didn't do much of anything else, either. Except for trying to avoid his stare as much as possible.

He frowned, uneasiness growing as he shook her a bit. "Katara!"

She startled at that, looking up with a gasp and a quick shudder. "Oh! Uh...sorry." Her throat bobbed with a hard swallow. "Guess I zoned out for a minute..."

"That wouldn't be the first time tonight." He sighed. "Come on, just lie down at least, even if you don't sleep. You're exhausted."

She paused a moment but nodded, the utter lack of expected argument making him both relieved and twice as concerned. But he helped her to curl up near the fire anyway, bunching part of her top blanket into a pillow beneath her head. He pulled the other part of it up higher, and she snuggled down against it, hiding most of her face in the thick folds.

He sighed, hand lingering on her back a few moments before he finally rose, headed back to Iroh's fire a short distance away. The scent of white wolfberry tea greeted him, and he sat down all too readily as Iroh handed him a cup.

"Is she all right?"

He sighed. "I don't know. I made her some chamomile and got her to bed down for a bit, but...that's all I can do for her right now. She won't talk."

Iroh stroked his chin thoughtfully, following his nephew's gaze back over to her sleeping form. "She's different from her brother. He'll make his feelings known and be over them quickly. She...controls herself too closely. Doesn't give herself room to breathe."

He nodded, murmuring in answer, only half realizing he was even speaking as he watched her sleep. "That's because she looks after him. After all of them."

Iroh sipped his own tea, brow creasing deeper. "I worry for her, that one. She can't be the one everybody leans on all the time. Even the strongest willed among us need to be cared for at some point."

He made a noncommittal sound of agreement, turning back to the fire with a long pause, sipping his own tea. "...Uncle?"

"Yes?"

His chest tightened as he fumbled over the words, the ones he wanted sticking in his throat like those rice dumplings they always ate at new year. "I...A lot has happened, since we first left home. I know I haven't been the easiest to deal with and...and I know it seems like I don't appreciate you a lot of the time. But that can't be further from the truth. I'm just...really bad at saying it. So thank you. For everything. But especially for putting up with me."

Iroh smiled, resting a hand on his back: "You should know by now why I chose to put up with you. You made a good stand today. You knew it was hopeless going in, but you tried anyway. You didn't give up without a fight. Seeing you do something so amazingly brave is all the thanks I'll ever want."

He felt his cheeks redden, a tiny smile crossing his own lips and the tension in his shoulders laxing a bit. "...Thank you, Uncle."

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"So..." Aang murmured, joining the others at Shen's campfire. "This was kind of a colossal failure."

Jin sighed, swirling the tea around in her cup. "I suppose stating the obvious is always the first step, no?" She puffed a couple strands out of her face, taking a long sip.

Shen stared at the fire, lacing his fingers under his chin. "A colossal failure, yes. But not a total one."

"How not? Ba Sing Se was our last defense."

"I know," Shen said. "Which means if we want to win this war, we need to make another. It's a huge setback, but it won't stop us unless we throw down our own swords."

Jin arched a brow at him. "How exactly should we plan an invasion with half the Earth Kingdom military gone and no base?"

He smiled, looking her square in the face. "Simple. The Ming Zhou Method."

Aang blinked. "What are you talking about?"

Shen turned to the fire, stoking it up a bit. "During the Fire Nation's second civil war, General Ming Zhou led the rebellion against Fire Lord Shi Zhen's rule. Their primary base was Xhangua, a captured city on Pyre Island. That Winter, Shi Zen's main forces, led by General Fu Shang, mounted a surprise attack on the settlement and burned it to the ground.

"But that hardly stopped the rebels. Ming Zhou led them into hiding for a while to plan retaliation, even though they only numbered a few hundred after the fall of Xhangua. By the time they finally struck and captured Shi Zen's outpost at Tienshin, it was a complete surprise because Fu Shang thought the uprising had already been crushed." He smiled. "That victory allowed the rebels to eventually overthrow Shi Zen's dynasty, and Ming Zhou himself became the next Fire Lord."

Jin sighed, looking down at her hands. "Except that we don't have that long. If we don't defeat Ozai by the end of Summer, the rest of the world will go the way of Ba Sing Se."

Aang frowned, resting his chin on his hands. "We might not have to wait long at all." He rose to his feet, grabbing his staff and heading away from the fire.

"Where are you going?"

He looked over his shoulder at them. "To talk to the others. And bring some good news to a friend who really needs it."

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The sound of the bombing was deceptively gentle. A rumble they all felt more than heard above the hushed refugees calming each other. Iroh himself had dozed off by the fire, leaving Zuko awake and restless. Barely an hour passed since he tucked Katara under a blanket to get some much needed rest, and she was already shifting under it in a way he knew was all too familiar, kicking the blanket off. He set his teacup down, at her side in moments and trying his best to soothe her without waking her up.

She would have none of it. Whimpering like a scared kitten and shivering despite the warmth of the fire and the blanket. Shifting away from him until she suddenly bolted awake with a strangled shriek dying in her throat. Eyes wide with terror and her brow soaked in a cold sweat.

His chest tightened the same way it had when he'd watched her suffer through the Bending Sickness as he gently brushed her hair from her face. "Katara?... Are you okay?"

She she swallowed hard, closing her eyes with a shuddering breath and nodding.

He knew it was a lie, but for now he didn't see a point in prying when she was still upset. She moved to sit up against the wall, and he watched with even more concern when she shivered harder. "Do you...want some tea?"

She shook her head, tight-lipped, as though she wanted to speak but dared not.

He bit his lip, venturing a hand out to rest on her arm. Her skin was icy to the touch, and he recoiled immediately, grabbing her blanket and pulling it up over her, tucking it around her feet, and then over her shoulders. "You're freezing. Here, let me warm you--"

She tensed for only a moment before shoving hard at his chest.

He backed off with a surprised yelp, looking up at her and feeling his heart sink. Her eyes were wide and glistening, hands and lips trembling and her face half drained of color, which was a feat between her naturally dark skin and the deep shadows of the firelight.

He held his hands out placatingly, grasping for words to calm her down with.

"Katara, it's ok. Shhhh, I'm not gonna hurt you. You're safe..."

She didn't move, though her breathing shallowed a degree as he slowly crept closer, hands reaching for the edges of the blanket rather than her shoulders. Carefully, he pulled it around her, heaving a hot breath between it and her body to soothe away the shivers.

The warmth seemed to calm her a lot, his confidence growing the more she relaxed. His hands settled on her shoulders, gentle and reassuring and slowly folding his arms around her, heart pounding in a way it never had before.

She didn't react for a moment, as though unsure of what to do, which somehow comforted him in that she was just as hesitant and uncertain as he felt. He tucked the blanket around her more, pulling her into his side as another rumble shook the earth around them.

She shivered along with it, turning to bury her face in his shoulder, muffling a sound that he could already barely hear. Her shoulders trembled under his arm in that telltale way, tiny, gasping sobs soon joining it and the fabric of his shirt growing damp.

"It's okay," he whispered, though his voice wasn't much steadier than hers and he knew it. "Shhhh... You're safe, now."

Time seemed to slow down to a trickle of moments the longer he soothed her, until her tears dried up to the occasional sniffle. He thumbed them off her cheek, other hand coasting along her back. Her shivers answered the rumbles of the bombing above them. He swallowed thickly, tucking an errant strand behind her ear. "Are you...Are you okay, now?"

She nodded absently, breathing a heavy sigh.

He noted the way her eyes still glistened, venturing a question he knew he had no right to ask but couldn't help the concern. "What were you dreaming about?"

"N-Nothing," she whispered. "Was just a nightmare."

"Looked like a pretty intense one." He tried not to let on how awkward it felt to smooth the blanket over her shoulders like that, as he remembered his mother always used to do when she knew he was upset.

"It's over now," she murmured. "I"m okay." He followed her gaze to the glow of a more distant fire, to the huddled figures of Sokka, Toph, and Suki wreathed in shimmering, backlit shadows. "I have to be."

He shook his head, feeling a pang in his own chest at those words and the look on her face. "You won't be any good to him when you finally snap and lose your mind because no one's ever bothered to take care of _you_. Back at camp, when I asked for your help...I also meant that you were more than welcome to ask for mine." He felt her shudder again at an uncomfortably close tremor. "You've been through this before, haven't you? A city-storming."

She paused for a long moment, before simply nodding. "My tribe...We were attacked a few years ago."

"Sokka told me about your mother," he murmured, an unfamiliar weight in his throat just at the look on her face.

She nodded, and he felt a slight rush of relief at the tension in her body ebbing away with her words. "We...She was gathering eggs on the nesting cliff with some of the other women when the ships grounded. Gran-Gran took Sokka and I into the ice grotto with the kids and elders. We came back up after it was over and..." She swallowed hard, reaching up to touch the charm on her necklace, and he knew by the look on her face that the words just wouldn't come.

"It's okay. You don't have to say any more."

She stilled for a moment, before slowly pulling out of his arms and sitting up. He kept a hand on her shoulder to steady her as she was already weavy from exhaustion, his voice lowering a bit. "I'm sorry. I don't care if I wasn't part of that raiding party and had nothing to do with it. I told Sokka and I'm going to tell you, too. I'm sorry for what my people did to you."

She looked up, meeting his gaze for a long moment of stunned silence, which only made him realize that he'd never had time to notice how blue her eyes were, or that the way the glow of a campfire played across her features made his heart forget its rhythm.

She smiled. A tiny one. And he felt an answering one spread across his own lips.

"...Li?"

The voice came from from behind him, snapping him out of those pleasant thoughts with a hard startle. It was familiar, and at the same time he couldn't place it. But the look on Katara's face made him not want to turn around. Her eyes narrowed, the smile gone and replaced by a scowl, voice a menacing whisper of Arctic chill.

"_You_."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	2. Old Friends

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

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The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 2: Old Friends

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"_You_."

Just that one word was enough to send a chill down his spine. More for her tone and expression than anything else, though he knew neither one was directed at him.

"Katara? What are you--"

"You _bastard_."

She didn't wait for a response, pushing herself to her feet with a fist at the ready, leaping over Zuko. He turned around in time to see her catch their mystery guest with a well-aimed right hook, barely giving him time to reel before her elbow jammed into his ribs.

Zuko felt his chest clench. He knew those hook swords anywhere.

"Katara, wait a--!" The boy had barely gotten his weapons half off his belt before she nailed him in the face with a well-aimed foot.

Zuko watched, part stunned, part confused, and a smaller part feeling silently vindicated at watching him get pummeled by this slight little girl. After all, this was the same guy who barged into his tea shop and tried to blow his cover and ruin the last chance at safety he had. For a moment he entertained the thought of helping her.

Not that she needed it. Her fists were proving quite capable, barely giving him a chance to reel before throwing the next blow. He staggered back, doubling over as she caught him in the ribs with her heel, and her elbow met his chin with a sickening sound.

"Katara, sto--"

The plea fell on deaf ears as she cut him off with a kick to the stomach, grabbing the collar of his shirt as he doubled over. There was a disconcerting thunk as the back of his head met the rocky wall of the tunnel.

"Who the _hell_ do you think you are showing your face around here?" Her voice was dark and cold. Biting, like the winds of the Pople she hailed from.

The boy struggled for a moment, dizzy and weak, hand grasping feebly at her wrist. "Katara, I--"

"Answer me!" she shouted. "What are you doing here!"

Zuko felt his spine shudder at the way the boy pled with her like that. At the way she refused to hear him or even give him a chance to answer her question before punching him in the jaw while she braced him against the wall. He swallowed thickly, approaching with a healthy amount of caution.

"Katara, stop it! You're really gonna hurt him!"

"That's the idea," she growled. "He deserves it." She turned her attention back to the boy. "Now, are you going to tell me what a scheming piece of filth like you is doing here, or am I going to have to keep beating it out of you?"

His face was streaked with blood down the side of a cheek, a trickle of it flowing over his lip and chin as he struggled to speak. "S-Sorry... Shouldn't have..."

Zuko's insides twisted again as she slammed him against the rock once more. His movements were starting to slow to an aimless, sluggish flailing, too weak now to put up any kind of effective resistance. She showed him no mercy, staring him down as he struggled in her tightening grip.

Zuko moved without even thinking, grabbing her from behind with both arms locking hers down at her sides as he shouted in her ear. "_Katara!_ Stop it before you kill him!"

No matter how many times he'd faced her in battle, her strength surprised him. She struggled against his grip, and it was all he could do to keep her restrained as she fought to land another blow on her intended victim. "He wanted to flood a whole valley to get rid of one Fire Nation division! And he used me to do it! It would serve him right!"

Zuko spun her around, body stiff in full command mode, gripping her tightly by the arms and pulling her right up into his face. "And I guess you're the better person for beating the shit out of him when he walks up to you peacefully, right? Stop it! Right now!"

"How do I know _what_ he's here for! The last time I saw him, he tried to kill my brother!"

"That's exactly my point! You _don't_ know! You didn't even give him a chance to tell you! You just attacked him! Call me crazy, but someone walking up to you with his weapons sheathed doesn't come off as an imminent threat." He squeezed her arms hard. Not enough to bruise, but enough to tell her he meant business. "Now are you going to cut it out or am I going to have to _make_ you?"

People had begun to stare at them long ago, but it was only now that the small gaggle parted to let Aang through. He knelt at Jet's side as he crumpled to the floor, breathing shaky and an angry red stain growing at the shoulder of his tunic. The boy bit his lip, swallowing thickly. "Katara, please... Don't. Enough people have died today..."

Zuko felt her relax in his grip a little, no longer struggling but still obviously seething. "Fine. Just let me alone for a while."

He hesitated a moment, but let her go, body still rigid and alert in case she attempted a strike while their guards were down. And he immediately scolded himself once she turned and headed back down the dark corridor, just as she'd said she would.

_Power and talent doesn't mean she's manipulative and insane by default._

A pained moan from Jet turned his attention back to the matter at hand, and he knelt beside Aang to help him tend his wounds. The stain on his shirt spread from the blood running down the side of his face and neck, and he groaned as he tried to move. Zuko shook his head, stilling him and piling a blanket against the wall for him to lie on while Aang bandaged his head.

He put his hand in front of Jet's face, raising his middle finger. "How many am I holding up?"

Jet cracked an eye open, scowling blearily at him. "Not funny, asshole..."

"I guess you're feeling okay, then." His expression hardened. "I'm not going to harm you. But she has a point."

Aang smoothed the boy's hair away from the head wound, much more careful and gentle than Zuko thought was necessary. "What are you doing here? You're pretty far from home."

"We...We got moved to the camps," he murmured. "Friends warned me... Said to...to go underground..."

Aang blinked. "They're all here?"

"No... Just Longshot...and Bee..."

"We'll try to find them for you," Zuko assured him, though his tone was no less cold. "You should rest for now."

Jet closed his eyes without further argument, shifting gingerly on the piled blanket while Aang tucked a pillow behind him. Aang sighed, murmuring as he stared at the small campfire next to them. "I've never seen her like that. Not even after we found out what Jet did..."

Zuko felt his insides squirm at the thought, almost sorry he'd stopped her. "She's probably been stewing on it."

"But...But that was months ago." Aang swallowed thickly. "I thought she would've let it go by now."

Zuko stared at him, hardly believing what he'd just heard. Then he remembered he was, in fact, talking to a child. Who had been living under a proverbial rock for the last century.

"If there's only one thing you ever learn about women, make sure it's this. They _never_ forget _anything_."

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Shen had left the two of them alone by the fire, going of to fetch some dinner for the three of them. Not that anyone was particularly hungry, but it gave them something to think about other than the distant growl of bombs dropping overhead.

"So," Jin sighed, pulling her blanket tighter, "what do you think the Avatar's plan is this time?"

"I have no idea," Lao murmured. "But considering the Captain's story? I vote hostile takeover of some poor, unsuspecting, strategically important city."

She looked around, surveying their meager camp. "Him and what army?"

"The one scattered all about these tunnels, of course."

They both turned to greet the speaker ambling toward them, carrying a teapot and a stack of simple earthen cups. Lao shook his head.

"He just tried that, you know. And you saw how badly that turned out. I'd have expected something _less_ crazy out of the Dragon of the West."

Iroh seated himself by the fire, setting out the cups and pouring them each a share. "I'm sorry if I disappoint you. But I'm only bringing you what the Avatar himself has said."

She blinked. "You're kidding me, right? What outpost is he planning to take over? Because if it's anything larger than a storehouse, he's out of his head."

"That, I don't know. All I've heard him saying to his friend is that he's going to need all the survivors here."

Jin felt a sick knot form in her stomach. "If that's the case, what the hell was the evacuation effort _for?_ These people are civillians, not trained military!"

"Then we'll have to correct that, now won't we?"

Shen's voice made all three of them snap up. He carried a large iron cooking with him full of something that smelled wonderful, which he hung on the fire, and three small earthen bowls. Kneeling in front of the fire, he ladeled out generous portions of stew. But rather than take his own share, he presented the third bowl to Iroh with a shaky hand and a pale smile.

Jin arched a brow, but decided not to comment. "You're saying we turn these refugees into soldiers. In the space of a few weeks at most."

"What other choice do we have?"

"He's right," Iroh said, sipping his tea. "And it's not as if it would be the first time.."

Lao leaned forward, putting down his stew for a moment. "What are you talking about?"

Iroh set his tea down, folding his hands and staring into the fire. "When I laid siege to Ba Sing Se all those years ago, it was not the military forces that my men were dealing with most often. We'd besieged the southwest quadrant of the city by breaking through the first two walls. For a city half the size of the Fire Nation's main island, the task of moving military forces to defend even one part of it takes days. I counted on that when I attacked. By concentrating my forces at a single point, I took advantage of the city's size by making that one point difficult to defend.

"What I didn't expect to find was the citizens themselves taking up arms in the absence of their protectors. And not even true weapons. Anything they could get their hands on would do, as long as it had a sharp edge or a crushing end. Just in sheer numbers they were formidable. Nevermind their determination to not let their city fall. They fought like rabid wolves.

"The will to fight is an amazing thing. When people have something they want to protect at any cost, they will do so. And their resourcefulness and determination will win out as long as their will to fight does not break." He sighed, swirling his tea. "One free man defending his home is more powerful than ten hired soldiers."

A heavy silence settled over the four of them as Jin mulled over the words, watching the rest of their faces. Shen swallowed thickly, frowning at the fire for a long moment. Until finally, the scrape of his boots on the ground broke the silence. He rose to his feet, not even giving Lao a chance to stop him as he disappeared into the tunnel.

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Half an hour was a more than reasonable amount of cooling off time, he reckoned. At least enough that he'd be able to get some answers out of her without incurring serious bodily injury. He headed down the dark tunnel where she'd gone to sulk, holding a small torch out in front of him to light his way.

He didn't want to admit how much the thought of somone like Katara flying into an unprovoked violent rage disturbed him. And despite Jet's injuries, he couldn't find himself feeling too sorry for the guy. People like Katara -- good, kind-hearted people with a better developed sense of right and wrong than he ever had two years ago -- didn't try to actively kill somebody without a damn good reason.

The idea of what Jet must have done to anger her so much made him want to go back and kick the guy in the ribs a little harder.

The light from his hand finally illuminated her figure a few feet ahead. She sat in the wider part of the tunnel against the wall, knees drawn to her chest, head resting on her folded arms. He stopped, observing her for few moments before making his presence known.

"What the hell was that all about?"

Her voice was equally calm, but obviously seething. "None of your goddamn business. I told you to leave me alone, didn't I?"

"I think you've had long enough." He paused, setting the torch in a bracing and folding his arms across his chest, leaning on the wall to watch her. "I didn't know you and Jet had a history."

"Well now you do." She turned away from him, staring further down the tunnel. "I'm not going to talk about it."

"Maybe not now. But sooner or later you're going to tell me what the hell he did to piss you off that much. And I don't mean what you said about that village and your brother. I mean what he did to _you_. Because you're not the kind of person who flies into a psychotic fit unless you were jerked around personally."

"And when did it become so important to you? He a friend of yours?" She snorted. "Because if he is, you'd better watch your back lest he shove a hook through it."

"I met him on the ferry into Ba Sing Se. I barely knew his name before we parted ways." He sighed, but kept his eyes trained on her. "It's important to me because I've never seen you that livid at anyone before. Not even me. And apparently, neither has Aang."

She took in a deep, psyching breath, looking back at the ground in front of her feet. "He used me."

Zuko felt his jaw tense. "For your skills or your feelings?"

"Both." She swallowed, sounding more flat and drained than angry. "How bad did I do?"

"You cracked a rib or two, bruised up the back of his head pretty bad, might've knocked a couple teeth out for all I know." He paused, almost not wanting to know. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

She shrugged. "Watching my brother, mostly."

Now it was his turn to snort. "I repeat, where'd you learn to fight like that?"

The faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "I've been in enough fights with non-benders to pick stuff up." It faded a moment later. "I think I'm going to stay here a little longer."

"Does that mean I can go get some answers out of your punching bag?"

She shrugged again. "Go ahead. I don't really care what you do with him."

"Good. I'll come get you if you're not back by the time I'm done." With that, he turned back down the tunnel, leaving the torch for her. It didn't take him long to find Jet's makeshift bedroll again, sitting cross-legged next to it and poking his shin, since it was one of the few parts of him Katara hadn't managed to hit.

He woke with a start, turning to look at him. "What...What is it?"

"I think you're rested enough to answer a few questions at least."

Jet averted his eyes, swallowing thickly. "What do you want to know?"

"For starters, since I've been filled in on what happened when you and Katara met, what did you even hope to accomplish by walking up to her?"

He stared at the fire in an obvious attempt to avoid eye contact. "I didn't even notice her. I was surprised to find you here."

Zuko blinked. "What did you want with me?"

Jet groaned, pressing a hand to his temples. "I...I don't even remember. Just that there's something important about you that I'm supposed to know...Something I'm supposed to be afraid of..."

Another blink. "Wait...you mean you forgot all that stuff you screamed at me before?"

"All what stuff?"

Zuko felt his body tense once again in anger. "You started a swordfight in my teashop."

Jet shook his head in confusion. "What the hell?... Last I remember, I was talking to you on the ferry... Honest! I swear, I don't remember anything."

Zuko voice rose slightly, finding himself unable to contain his frustration. "You spent almost half an hour trying to kill me and convince everyone around us that I'm a Firebender and you just..._forgot?_

"Maybe...Maybe that's it. I don't know..."

"Zuko...this is weird. He's not lying."

Zuko turned with a start, not having heard Toph come up behind him. His eyes narrowed as he looked between them. "How do you know?"

"I can feel people's heartbeats through the ground," she murmured. "Their breathing, their pulses, even the pitch of their voices... When people lie, those things change 'cause they're nervous. Jet's...telling the truth. He has no idea what you're talking about."

Zuko felt an icy knot form in his gut as he turned back to Jet. "What the hell did they do to you after they dragged you off?"

"After who dragged me off? Like I said, the last thing I remember is talking to you on the ferry."

"The Dai Li," Zuko replied. "You accused me of being a Firebender, attacked me at work, and then the Dai Li arrested you."

"Accused?" Toph scoffed. "You _are_ a Firebender."

"A fact I tried not to advertise, thanks," Zuko grumbled at her.

Jet braced his fingers against his nose, murmuring. "This is...This is beyond messed up. One minute we're swiping food on the ferry... Next thing I know, I'm a typical Earth Kingdom refugee working for an incense vendor, and Longshot and Smellerbee are telling me the city's about to be attacked..."

Zuko nodded, feeling a tiny shiver go down his spine. "They had to have done something to you."

Jet swallowed thickly, finally meeting his eyes. "You think...they screwed with my head somehow?"

"With any luck, they made a few improvements."

All three of them turned, though they didn't have to in order to know the speaker. The torchlight flickered off Katara's face in a way that made her look unusually menacing.

"Done sulking already?" Zuko murmured, unable to help himself.

She ignored the comment, looking right at Jet. "You remember anything about reservoir, a few barrels of blasting jelly, and people you manipulated into filling it for you?"

All eyes followed hers as Jet turned away, suddenly quiet. "Yes."

"Good. Because I'd be tempted to feel guilty for almost killing a guy who can't remember what the beating's for."

"Look," he growled, "I'm not proud of it. Doesn't mean it wasn't necessary."

"Really?" Zuko asked, arching a brow and folding his arms, a certain war meeting drifting to the top of his memory. "I'd love to hear you explain how the deaths of civillians can be in any way necessary."

"How would you prefer to die?" he seethed. "Drowned in a split second too short to feel any pain or even know what hit you? Or butchered to death after watching your home burn to the ground and everyone you love suffer the same fate in front of you?"

"Well," Zuko murmured, unable to keep the venom out of his voice, "how nice of you to make that decision for them without their knowledge." He folded his arms tight across his chest, mostly to keep from punching Jet in the head. "I take it you've lost loved ones to the Fire Nation?"

"They killed my family and destroyed my village when I was eight," he spat. "So no, I really wouldn't mind seeing every last one of your kind wiped off the map, whatever the cost."

"But I didn't, Jet. I never met you until that day on the ferry." No part of him moved save for his mouth, body far too rigid with anger. "I'm not the generals, I'm not the soldiers, and I'm not my father. If you bother to look past the uniforms, you may actually see people one day. People who are just as sick of fighting and killing and losing everything they love as you are.

"Wars don't end by killing off the enemy. They end when both sides remember there's no enemy to kill off. When both sides look under the uniforms and helmets and bending and remember who they are. Only then do the fighting and the dying stop. Only then are people free. We're working for that freedom, all of us, from every nation. We're fighting for it, and right now there are a couple million civillians up there _dying_ for it."

He finally rose to his feet, hands balled into trembling, white-knuckled fists at his sides. "So don't you dare call yourself a freedom fighter. Because right now, the one person working hardest against that freedom is _you_."

He didn't wait for an answer, turning on a heel down the tunnel and letting the darkness swallow him whole.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"So...you're saying we just walk in and set up camp somewhere else?"

"Yeah. If the Fire Nation's expended all their military forces to take down Ba Sing Se, they have to be drawing the manpower from somewhere, right?"

Sokka's mouth worked around the idea as though he was trying to learn a foreign tongue. "Aang, I...I can't do that again. I already tried the stand up against impossible odds with everything you have approach, and it failed. Miserably."

"I know. I was out there. I saw. But that doesn't mean we just give up. Ba Sing Se is gone, but it wasn't the only Earth Kingdom city left."

"Are you kidding?" Sokka's voice cracked. "The only other settlements in the Earth Kingdom we've seen are tiny villages that are lucky to have a hospital, nevermind any kind of military support."

Suki frowned thoughtfully, murmuring under her breath. "...Omashu's still standing, isn't it?"

Sokka's brows drew together, looking a strange mix of panicked and angry. "Sure it is, and it's a fortified stronghold. Under Fire Nation control."

"Then the answer is simple."

They all looked up to see Zuko standing just within the light of their campfire, chiseled features looking more determined than when he'd first landed at the South Pole.

"We take it _back_."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	3. Last Chance

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 3: Last Chance

* * *

"You can't be serious."

There was nothing about Zuko's face that _didn't_ look serious. Eyes narrowed, brows drawn together, mouth set in a hard line.

"I sure as hell can be."

"Even after we just failed hardcore at the same exact thing?"

Zuko nodded. "It's war, Sokka. If we want to win, we have to try. And we've lost too many people to throw in the towel."

The boy's eyes seemed to light up for the first time since the bombs started falling, and a wan smile curved his lips. "So what's your plan?"

"This isn't the first time Omashu's fallen to the Fire Nation."

Aang blinked. Hard. "What?"

Zuko dropped to his knees by the fire, bowing his head with a hard sigh. "It was one of the first cities captured, actually. King Bumi's been ruler for the past eighty years or so. The Fire Nation originally conquered it only a couple of years after the start of the war."

"Then...how did Bumi become king?"

"Simple," another voice murmured from the shadows, and they all looked up to see Shen's towering form shuffle into the firelight. "He led the resistance that liberated the city twenty years later. Since the whole of the Royal Family had been killed in the initial attack and there was no true successor to the throne, the citizens declared Bumi king."

Aang smiled. "I know Bumi. If he did it once, he can do it again."

"Except that was eighty years ago," Sokka sighed. "He's no Spring penguin."

"Well, that's what he has us for, right? Bumi's thing is strategy. He does the planning, we do the fighting."

"Then why hasn't he made a move to take back his own city yet?"

Aang stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Neutral _jin_. When the Fire Nation invaded this time, it wasn't the right moment to defend. So he chose to surrender and spare the city unnecessary casualties. So far, the moment to strike hasn't presented itself."

"Until now," Suki said, turning to Shen. "We have your men, we have the survivors, and we have all of Omashu's military force. With the right approach, we should be able to do it."

Shen nodded. "Our best bet is to go through the sewer system rather than the gates. It would be the least heavily guarded, and it would grant the most comprehensive access to the city."

Sokka frowned, staring at the fire. "I hate to be the wet blanket, here, but you realize that would involve moving everyone here _to_ Omashu, right? And undetected at that. We'll be seen miles before we get to the city, and there goes our surprise attack."

"Unless we have a way to travel in disguise."

All of them turned to Zuko, instantly alert. "How?" Aang asked.

Zuko turned to Sokka. "The same way we got to the Air Temple. We disguise ourselves as a military convoy. Pretend the refugees are our prisoners."

Sokka stared at him in something between shock and horror. "Are you outta your head? These guys'll never agree to that!"

"They just might," Toph said. "They trusted us enough to let a battalion of fully armed Fire Nation soldiers lead them underground. Acting in what they know is a ruse won't be too much of a stretch."

Zuko nodded. "These people have nothing left to lose, and everything to gain by coming to Omashu with us. They sure as hell can't stay _here_ and they know it."

"My men will start speaking with them after the raid ceases," Shen said. "Right now, nobody is in much of a state to think about it."

"Good plan," Aang agreed, looking around at all of them with a heavy sigh. "For now, there isn't much we can do except wait."

Sokka swallowed thickly, nodding. "Yeah, I know." He looked up as Zuko shuffled closer, enough to rest a hand on his shoulder.

"We still have a chance," he said, a wan smile crossing his face. "In the darkest times, hope is something we give ourselves."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The sound of falling bombs seemed to grow easier to ignore with each passing hour. Like a thunderstorm in the small hours of the morning. The kind of sound that made it clear not to go outside, but that it was safe if one simply stayed put and kept close to the fire.

Jin looked back at her tea before taking another sip, while Iroh poured Lao another cup. "So...if we're to turn a group of civillians who haven't even _spoken_ of war for the last couple decades into a competent bulk of our fighting force, what do you suggest we arm them with? Unless you know some kind of magical bare-handed fighting technique."

Iroh inhaled the scent of his own tea, sighing heavily. "During my siege of the city, the people fought with whatever they could pick up. Butcher knives, staves, axes, hammers... Anything that could inflict damage on a human body was fair game as a weapon."

Lao looked up at the roof of the tunnel as the growl of another bomb shook the walls. "So...we give them whatever blunt or pointy object we can find and let them have at it? Great. Sounds like a plan." He took drained the rest of his teacup, setting it down. "If you need me, I'll be raiding the baijuu stash and happily awaiting the end of the world."

"Of course not," Iroh snorted. "While the city's defenders were not trained at all, we don't have their numbers. But we do have your battalion." He looked up, intent. "Your fully trained battalion, which is more than capable of teaching civillians how to fight effectively."

"And what about the weapons?"

"Omashu has it covered already."

They looked up at Aang's voice as he came toward their fire, settling down crosslegged with his closed glider lying across his lap. "The sewer system underneath the city will take us right to the barracks where the armory is."

"Still," Lao said, "just in numbers we're hopelessly outclassed. Nevermind that a two-week crash course isn't going to be much against soldiers who have been training since they could walk."

"If it's of any consequence, my men were nearly repelled three times by bands of citizens a fraction of the size of the occupying siege force. It's one of the great lessons of any war leader. Numbers seldom win a battle."

It was Lao's turn to snort. "Maybe not. But I'll bet they help."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The darkness of the underground made everything seem later, as though daytime didn't exist. Not that it was much different from the South Pole, where night and day each lasted half a year. Katara had grown up with a kind of warped internal clock, and in a way, being trapped down here was comforting. A subtle reminder of home.

She hung back away from the glow of their fire, watching as Zuko rested his hand on Sokka's shoulder in a clumsy but genuine effort to console him. The mere look on her brother's face made her shoulders feel heavy and strained. It wasn't fair.

Zuko looked up before she crossed into the firelight, alerted to her footsteps by the look on his face. "Feeling better?" he asked.

She nodded, slowly folding to her knees in front of the fire. "Less homicidal at least." Her eyes lowered to the ground. "I...thanks."

She about felt him raise an eyebrow at her. "For what?"

"For what you said to Jet."

He swallowed thickly. "You're welcome, I guess. I just think I was...unnecessarily vicious."

She smiled, looking over at him. "Believe me, he deserved every word of it. Is verbally handing people their teeth in a teacup a natural talent?"

A light flush dusted his cheeks, barely visible under the glow of the fire. "Mmm. It's my uncle's doing, mostly. I've...never been much of a talker." He paused, thoughtful. "Unless I was barking orders at my crew or ranting at thin air..."

She laughed into her hand for a moment, then sighed, murmuring. "It's...weird...to see you like this."

"Like how?"

Sokka snorted. "You know, not yelling about your honor every five seconds and trying to kill us?"

The beginning of a shy grin tugged at Zuko's lips. "It's weird to feel this way, too. Like I finally know what I'm doing is right. Not that I'm complaining, just...it's new."

Suki swallowed hard, frowning. "I'm glad somebody's confident in this plan at least. It's all we can do, but it doesn't meanb it'll be enough. If we had even one major strike in our favor I'd have a better feeling about it."

Zuko's eyes narrowed in thought, lips set in a line for a long moment before he spoke. "...The eclipse."

Sokka blinked at him. "I thought that would be the invasion day. You know, element of surprise when no one in the capital can bend worth a damn?"

Zuko shook his head. "We should use the eclipse advantage for this battle, when we're severely outnumbered and outclassed. We need it more _now_. When we have Omashu, we won't need seven minutes of complete tactical advantage."

"What do you mean?"

"We'll have a base to which we can draw allies. The Northern Water Tribes, your father's forces..." He sighed. "But unless we win this one, nobody's going to take us seriously. Not that I can blame them, especially with Ba Sing Se being gone."

Toph nodded. "You got a point, there, Sparky. Not to mention you need to prove you're on their side before they'll bother listening to you."

Sokka frowned, stroking his chin. "The eclipse is our last big shot at victory before that comet arrives. If we use it to take Omashu, then _everything_ depends on this battle. We won't have another chance to make it up if we lose."

He looked over at them, and Katara's breath caught slightly at the look of utter determination in his eyes. Never had she seen anyone look so sure of anything.

"I know. Which is why we need to make sure we succeed. Whatever the cost."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	4. The Army

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 4: The Army

* * *

It had seemed like forever before the rumble and roar ceased to rain down upon them, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. A silence Sokka knew and remembered all too well as he'd followed Zuko out the tunnel's exit into the warm night air of the city's outskirts. And though he'd known better and had told himself he wouldn't, he'd been powerless to keep from looking back into the distance.

Where impenetrable walls once stood was now a crumbling pile of rubble, broken stones piercing the sky like a row of jagged teeth, illuminated by the glow of the fire behind them as the rising tower of smoke blotted out the stars. He knew, with a tight chest and a sickness in his stomach, that the sight would haunt him the rest of his days.

A splash of cold rain from the roof of the wagon in front of him snapped him out of those unpleasant thoughts. He shook his head to clear the disorientation, pulling the hood of his cloak further over his head against the rain.

Zuko's plan had worked even better than expected; they now had the trappings of a full military convoy. Ostrich horses, wagons, weapons, and uniforms for everyone, as well as more provisions than they knew what to do with. Shen's men, it seemed, had not lost much of their skill or strength while in hiding. Though the weather had ceased to cooperate for the last three days, they were all safe and alive and on the move, and that was all he really cared about.

"Monsoons," Zuko muttered, catching up next to him. "Gotta love it."

Sokka looked up at the rain soaking them, sighing dismally and thanking his lucky stars that Fire Nation infantry uniforms were rather well insulated. "And to think back home the concept of rain is totally alien. Snow, we get. The idea of _liquid_ snow confuses people."

"Funny," Zuko murmured, "my country's the opposite. Most of the civillians don't even know what snow is. You say 'solid rain' and you get blank stares." He smirked a little. "We only have three seasons in practice. Hell, Not Hell, and Typhoon."

Sokka chuckled. "We have four. Sleeping, Mating, Spawning, and Migrating."

Zuko arched a brow. "Why all based on wildlife?"

"Because if we based our seasons on weather, they'd be Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter, and Avalanche."

Zuko choked into his hand, snickering. "...You win."

"Oh come on, boys. Can't take a little water?"

They both looked back as Katara strolled up between them, smiling and looking way too happy for someone who'd been trudging the last two hours through a downpour. Sokka pursed his lips.

"Pardon us if we don't particularly like getting wet."

She chuckled, folding her arms behind her head. "Why not? It's just water, it won't hurt you." She sighed happily, tilting her face up to the spray.

Zuko folded his arms, shivering a bit. "It's your elerment, of course you'd love being drenched. For us it's just cold and uncomfortable."

She rolled her eyes, holding her hands out in front of her. "Oh fine, if you insist on being such spoilsports..." They both watched with trepidation as she took a low stance, sweeping her hands back over her head with her palms out. The water around them did the same, flattening into a thin sheet of ice that billowed like cloth above their heads. Fat raindrops drummed on the top of it, rolling off to the ground behind them.

Sokka looked from her to the shelter, then back again. "I know I've said it before, but it's worth mentioning again: Sis, you rock."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Please tell me you're smarter than this."

Smellerbee looked up from under the hood of her heavy cloak. "Smarter than what, exactly?"

"Smarter than throwing your lives away for the hell of it," Jet replied, grimacing. "You do realize this whole plan is nuts, right?"

Her lips twisted into a scowl at him before turning back to the ground to watch her footing. "I realize that this plan is the only chance we have. And that I didn't start calling myself a freedom fighter just because it sounded badass."

He glared at her. "Bee, look at us. Look around you. These people? They've never picked up a weapon in their lives. Most of them have been convinced that the war doesn't even exist. How the _hell_ are they supposed to fight off highly trained guards five to one?"

"They followed us down there, didn't they? And even if they didn't believe in the war before, they sure as hell do now. The burned-out shell of the city you used to live in is kind of hard to ignore." She snorted. "Besides, we were them once. Survivors. We had no idea what we were doing, only that we were going to stick together and not let the people who destroyed our lives take away the little we had left."

Jet folded his arms, body visibly stiffening. "Right. Except we never thought going up against a fully guarded stronghold was a good idea."

"Look, it's all we can do, ok? With Ba Sing Se gone, this is our last possible shot at winning. We can't just sit back and waste it."

"You don't get it, do you?" he said. "We don't actually have a shot at winning, and we _are_ wasting it. We'll be mowed down like a field of weeds. The whole plan is suicide."

She trained her eyes squarely on him. "Going down fighting is never wasting a chance. That's what you said to me when I first met you."

"Yeah. And I was a different person when I met you." His features softened into a wistful frown. "Someone I stopped being proud of long ago."

She felt her stomach clench hard. "So now you're just gonna give up?"

"I'd rather die fighting a battle I can win than throw my life away pointlessly."

"You know," she said, "when you found me after my village had been attacked, I had nothing. No family, no home... That's why I joined you. That's why I fought. I had nothing left to lose but my own life." Despite her best efforts to keep her voice even, even she could hear that telltale waver and crack in the back of her own throat.

"You _gave_ me something to lose that day. Something to fight for. You gave all of us a cause, but more importantly you gave us a family that we would gladly defend to the last. When I made the choice to be a freedom fighter? _This_ is the kind of thing I signed on for. To fight for the little I have left. Even if I die doing it, it's still better than hiding out and waiting to be killed."

Jet shook his head. "That doesn't make what I did right. And it doesn't make this plan right, either. Just because you _can_ do whatever it takes doesn't always mean you _should_."

She snorted. "You know there's a huge difference between attacking a military base and destroying a civillian village, right?"

Jet looked at her, his expression the heaviest she'd ever seen. "They're both people. How big can the difference be?"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Zuko turned the piece of blazing wood over, embers scattering and a loud popping of bark rewarding him as the flames leaped a little higher. He looked out across the landscape, dotted with similar fires, sighing heavily. It felt so strange to be hiding in plain sight like this, knowing they could be attacked at any moment, but likely never would be. All the same, he'd gotten so used to meager meals that the generous bowl of seasoned rice he was working on thanks to the new provisions left him doubtful he could finish it.

He looked up as Aang shuffled into the glow of his fire, folding to his knees. "So now the real fun starts, huh?"

"'Fun' is hardly the word I'd use to describe it."

The boy's brows furrowed. "You gotta get better at this 'joking' business."

Zuko snorted, putting down his dinner, making a face at the film on his teeth. He pulled a twig from the pouch at his belt, gnawing the end of it. "Pardon me if I don't find war a particularly amusing subject."

Aang turned to the fire, swallowing thickly. "Neither do I, believe it or not."

"I believe it. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing."

Zuko started to scrub at his teeth with the frayed twig, murmuring. "If you're going to lie, the least you could do is _act_ like you're trying."

He frowned, pulling at his fingers absently. "Back in that cave when you busted us out of prison...you said I was going to need someone to teach me Firebending. I...I don't know if I can learn it. I tried it once and...I ended up hurting Katara. It was an accident, but..."

"But you're afraid to try again? After one failure?" Zuko sighed. "You want to know what happened the first time I tried to learn Firebending on my own?"

Aang looked up at him, attentive but still wary. "Is it going to scare me off Firebending for good?"

"Only if you let it."

He sighed. "Shoot."

Zuko finished with the twig, tossing it over his shoulder. "I was about four at the time. I'd started training, but Lo and Li were still teaching me how to breathe right, and I was getting frustrated like you wouldn't believe. Especially since my sister had come along, and she had this annoying ability to make candles flare anytime she cried.

"So I got impatient and a little jealous, and decided to teach myself because I thought I was past this whole breathing business. I grabbed a candle and headed out to the turtleduck pond. I figured if a toddler could do it, so could I.

"I concentrated as hard as I could on the candle, trying to make it flare up like Azula could. Just as I was starting to get tired...I got the hang of it. The flame started brightening, then growing. And as I got more into it, the results became even more dramatic." He let an almost sheepish grin tug at his lips. "So dramatic that I forgot all about the fact that candles are made of wax."

At Aang's expression, he sighed. "I didn't even notice the burning until I looked down and saw that I had hot wax melting all over my hands. I screamed and dropped the candle of course, also forgetting that grass I was standing in was also pretty flammable. So the next thing I knew, I had the lawn in front of me on fire.

"Smart kid that I was, I pulled off my cloak and started trying to beat the flames out, only to find my clothes were...well...also flammable. The cloak caught fire, and I had to resort to digging up and throwing dirt on the flames to smother them." He shook his head, feeling his cheeks burn a bit. "I don't think I've ever seen my mother so mad at me in my life."

Aang blinked at him, stunned silent for a moment. "Okay, maybe not to be born, but you were definitely lucky you lived past the age of five."

Zuko couldn't help the chuckle, no matter how strange he found the ability to laugh at himself as readily as others did. "Yeah, you could say that. But...it taught me a lot, too." He sighed, looking up at the campfire.

"Every element has a good and bad side. You need water to live, but even an inch of it can drown you and a flood's current can wipe out whole villages in the blink of an eye. Earth provides us stone to build our cities with and on, and the soil gives us plants to live off of. But that same earth can just as easily fall out from under us or swallow us whole or crush us. Air is just as necessary for life as water, but it has the power to damage, destroy, and even kill when it gets angry.

"Fire is no different. It can destroy everything in its path if given fuel and left unchecked, but used carefully and safely, it fills a need as well. It keeps us warm when the weather's cold, and lights our way when we can't see. We cook with it, make tea with it, and you can even use it to seal a wound if you have no other aid." He looked back at Aang, serious. "You need not fear it more than any other element, once you learn to control it.

"But that control is the hard part. The difference between fire and the other elements is that in order for water, earth, and air to be destructive, they have to be used with that intention. The nature of fire is different; even the tiniest flame spreads and strengthens on its own as long as it has fuel and air to keep it burning. And depending on what's available, it can do so very quickly and get out of control before you realize it. It's not inherently evil; it just takes a greater discipline to use properly."

Aang nodded, looking solemn as he stared back at the ground. "With my other teachers, I knew what to look for. Katara adapts to whatever's needed for any situation, and Toph listens and waits for the right time to strike. And I just...I knew that they were meant to train me. It's hard to describe, but I just know it when I feel it." He swallowed thickly. "For fire...I need someone who knows more than anything what fire's capable of and what can happen if you don't learn to control it."

He looked up, and though he was nervous, Zuko could tell by the look in his eyes what was coming next. "...I don't think there's anybody in the world who knows the danger of a wildfire better than someone who's been burned by it."

Zuko felt his chest chench at those words, hardly hesitating a moment before raising himself to his knees, fist to palm. "It would be an honor to train the Avatar."

He looked up again to find Aang flushing darkly, nodding. "You...You don't have to kneel like that, you know."

"Why not? You're the Avatar, it's proper respect."

Aang shook his head, and it was Zuko's turn to feel his cheeks flush as the boy raised himself to his feet and returned the bow.

"You're my teacher. It's you who demands the respect."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"We're here!"

Sokka had never thought he'd be so happy to hear two simple words in all his life.

They had wisely decided to leave the bulk of the convoy camped a half day's march away to rest from the gruelling journey, letting Aang lead Iroh, Zuko, Katara, Toph, Shen, and Sokka himself on to the small camp-city that Omashu's escaped citizens had built for themselves.

It was exactly as Sokka himself had remembered it, and that was more of a comfort than he'd ever expected or wanted to admit.

The resistance leader, whom Sokka recognized immediately by his beard, stood up from one of the campfires to greet them. "Avatar Aang! We're so glad to see you agai--" He cut off, seeming to take notice of Zuko, Iroh, and Shen. Or their clothing, rather. His hand reached for his weapon. "What are they doing here?"

Aang leapt between them, arms stretched out in a pacifying stance. "Relax, they're friends!"

"Oh really, now?" one of the leader's assistants piped up. "Then what about that convoy that's headed for Omashu even as we speak?"

Zuko looked squarely at him, voice full of authority despite being faced with two very unhappy soldiers. "Those are the survivors of Ba Sing Se traveling in disguise. We captured the original convoy."

The leader's eyes narrowed. "What are your names?"

Shen stepped forward, bowing. "I am Shen Lei, Captain of the former Second Taifeng Infantry. This is Prince Zuko, son of Fire Lord Ozai, and his uncle, the former General Iroh." At the look on the man's face, Sokka spoke up.

"They're on our side. If not for their help, we might not have gotten anyone out of Ba Sing Se alive."

"Then what are you bringing so many people here, for? As you can see we have barely enough for our own refugees."

"Because once we have control of Omashu again," Zuko said, "there'll be plenty for all."

Both of the men's jaws dropped, looking to Aang, then Zuko, then Sokka himself. And by their expressions he knew his own face looked as determined as his comrades.

"Are you--"

"--out of my head? Maybe," Zuko cut them off. "But right now your city is the only Earth Kingdom stronghold that still stands. If we're going to win this war at all, we'll need it back in our hands."

"And how do you propose to go about this with no army to speak of?" the leader's assistant growled, incredulous.

"We'll make one," Aang replied. "Out of those who want to win the hardest."

The leader himself sighed, looking out toward the horizon as he murmured under his breath. "Perhaps this was the time he meant..."

Katara blinked, arching a brow. "The time who meant?"

"King Bumi," the leader sighed, looking up at Aang. "It's a little pet project he's been working on for the past few decades. Something he never told the population about because they'd think he's crazier than they already do. But...after the Fire Nation took us over, he said to show you. That you would know what to do when the time came."

The rest of them exchanged glances while Toph stepped forward. "Do you know what he was building?"

The man shook his head. "He told me where it was hidden, but not what it was."

"Any chance you could take us there?"

He nodded, getting to his feet and turning to his assistant. "Lian, man the camp 'til I come back. I"m taking the Avatar and his comrades to the cave."

Lian nodded, saluting him. "Of course, Sir Fung."

He turned back to Aang. "Follow me, Avatar. If you know our king as well as you say, perhaps you can make sense of his madness."

Aang motioned for the others to follow him, murmuring. "How many times do I need to say it? It's _genius_, not madness..."

Next to him, Zuko snorted. "There's a difference?"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"You mean he hid it in the Cave of Two Lovers?"

Fung nodded, hoisting the torch ahead of them as they would their way through the passage. "He said it's the only place where it would never be found by the Fire Nation, even if the city was captured. While the crystals' glow will lead you out, he said, only total darkness will lead you to this treasure." He sighed. "Whatever that means. I love our king, but he's got to learn to stop speaking in riddles."

Aang smiled. "He does it to protect you. If you were all to be captured or something and the Fire Nation demanded to know the location, even getting it out of you would mean nothing to them. It's like a secret code. Only people who know Bumi himself will figure it out."

"Well I can't think of anyone here who knows him better."

They paused, Aang scratching his chin. "When I asked him to teach me Earthbending, he said he wasn't the right guy. That I needed to find someone who was a master of Neutral _Jing_, the art of listening and waiting before striking. And I did end up finding her." He gestured to Toph, giving everyone else a cursory glance. "If darkness is the way to find what he's hidden, then it's got to have something to do with listening to the earth and not being fooled by our eyes."

"In that case," Toph said, "leave this one to the expert." She shouldered past them, kneeling and pressing her palm to the ground. "The vibrations are pretty spaced out here, but to our right they really dense and chaotic. Which means the rock itself has been hewn away. There's a chamber there, and it's gigantic."

Aang nodded. "Good work. Let's go!"

They followed her down through the twisting labyrinth, which was admittedly much more complicated than the tunnels at Ba Sing Se could have ever aspired to, though Aang was fairly sure that was due to the condensed nature of this particular maze.

But after what seemed like hours, they arrived at an impressive metal door carved with the Earth Kingdom seal etched in the center around an impossibly tiny keyhole. Aang pushed it, sighing as he realized the obvious.

"So where's the key?" Sokka asked. "No way those doors'll budge without it."

"Is that keyhole even big enough for a key?" Zuko mused. "I'd need the finest hairpin in the world just to pick it."

"Great job, Bumi," Sokka groused. "Forget the genius part, he's just _mad_."

Toph's brows narrowed at the door. "You got it all wrong, as usual. There is no key, or he would've told you where it was."

"Then how do we get in?"

She smiled knowingly. "If you were the greatest Earthbender in the world, how would you do it?"

"If it was a stone door, I'd just pick the lock with Earthbending," Aang said, cocking his head. "But it's metal."

"So?" she said. "Where do you think metal comes from?"

Aang blinked at her. "You're joking, right?"

Toph shrugged, stepping up to the door and pressing her palms to it. "It can't hurt."

He foiund he couldn't argue with that one, watching her closely as she straightened one hand in front of the keyhole while the other remained on the door. Her fingers wiggled, as though feeling around inside something, contorting into shapes that made his own cramp just watching. After a few moments, there came a grind and whine of protesting hinges, and she backed away as the portal yawned open before them.

Sokka smiled excitedly, stepping up beside her and clapping her on the shoulder, while Shen watched amusedly.

"You really are the world's greatest Earthbender."

She smirked, buffing her nails and leading them through. "All in a day's work."

They followed her in, wary, though the room seemed tiny and empty save for large stone brazier in the center of it. Aang shivered as the darkness beyond closed in front of them like an intangible veil, so thick even Zuko's fist ablaze did little to penetrate it. He swallowed hard, a trembling hand on Toph's shoulder. "N-Now what?"

"This can't be it," Fung said. "There's nothing here! Though with King Bumi it's never certain."

Shen's eyes narrowed as he ventured forth to the brazier, dipping his hand in it and bringing those fingers to his nose curiously. Pausing for a moment, he huffed in a breath, igniting a tiny flame on the end of his fingers and touching it to the liquid's surface.

It immediately caught. And spread.

The light parted the darkness as the flames followed the stone channel before them, branching out onto other similar paths all through the room, just the sight of it enough to rob all but Toph's lungs of breath. Just the size of the room itself was incredible, a cavern so deep not even the firelight revealed where it ended.

And that was only the beginning.

"Oh my God..." Shen breathed.

Before them, standing at silent attention in the glow of the flames, row upon row and column upon column of them staring back as if awaiting orders. Faces expressionless in the flickering shadows, uniform and weapon denoting each one's rank.

"I knew you would find them, Avatar Aang."

They each gasped in turn, though Aang didn't need to see the withered old face to know who that voice belonged to.

"Behold! The Great Army of Omashu!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's Note: I apologize in advance for the increasing lag time between chapters, and I thank you all imensely for waiting so patiently. My personal life has been turned upside down twice in the space of 4 months, and that affects both my time and motivation to write more than I would like. I fully intend on finishing this story; it just might take longer than I had planned on.


	5. Haru

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 5: Haru

* * *

"...And I thought I was out of _my_ head."

Bumi chuckled, stepping forward out of the dark veil and into the light where they could see him. "It's a blurry line between genius and insanity, let me tell you."

Sokka looked beyond him, to the silent stone soldiers awaiting commands they would never be able to hear. "I'll give you that, though that genius part is somewhat debatable. What exactly is the point of an army of statues? Besides some really creepy home decor. I mean, it's not like they can move or anything."

Bumi laughed again, the twinkle in his eye nearly audible through his voice. "Don't you see? They can't be killed, they never tire, they're impervious to flames..."

"But they can't _move!_" Sokka repeated, exasperation growing. "They won't do any good if they can't attack things!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Toph grinned. Her foot slid forward over the ground, arms spread out to her sides. Sokka felt the rock beneath him move, a dull rumbling that made the hairs on his neck stand erect. A moment later, the whistle of a blade split the air behind him.

He barely sidestepped it, whipping around to come face to face with the stone warrior. Granite joints growled in protest as it swung at him yet again, and he jumped back with a sound somewhere between a squeak and a yelp. "All right, all right, I get your point!"

Toph smirked wider, bringing the soldier to ease and giving Sokka a chance to breathe. "Still doubt the genius part?"

He pressed his hands to his temples, forcibly calming his pulse and the steady heave of his lungs. "Okay. So we have an army of invincible stone soldiers. Except one Earthbender won't be enough to control them all, even if she is the greatest in the world. We need a small army just of _them_."

Aang stroked his chin, looking back at the ground for a long moment before a grin spread across his face. "That's not gonna be a problem."

Zuko's brow arched as he shifted weight to one hip, arms crossed. "And where exactly is this army? In your back pocket?"

Aang shook his head. "Close enough, though." He turned to Sokka. "We have a friend near here who'd be more than willing to return us a favor, I think."

Sokka let his own grin spread across his face to match his friend's. "If you're thinking the same friend I am? Then we're officially in business."

"In the meantime," Shen mused, "we need to analyze the city layout and see how exactly we're going to us them."

Aang nodded. "Zuko and I can stay here and help with that." He turned back to Sokka. "You and Katara should go to the village. He won't take much convincing from her." He hesitated visibly, swallowing hard and looking halfway between Zuko and the ground. "And...I can start learning Firebending, too, I guess."

Sokka nodded, a feeling of apprehension clenching his chest at that last part, but not enough to derail the feeling that they were finally getting somewhere on the road to victory. "Yeah. Don't worry about us, we can handle it."

"I'll go with them," Toph said. "Another Earthbender can't hurt."

"Good, good," Bumi said. "As for what we do right now, I think it would benefit everyone to have a good rest before we carry out any plans."

Sokka shook his head. "Not for us. We can all head out tonight on Appa. I'd rather get going while we have the night to hide us."

Aang sighed. "Okay. The rest of us'll go explain the new plan to the civilians. They can use a morale booster."

They all turned to head out the door, Bumi locking it after them with a few flicks of his thumbs. Though he felt rejuvenated by the thought that they all had a very concrete task in mind rather than a vague, and in his mind mostly unattainable goal, he couldn't shake the weariness, the thought that the reason they were in this mess at all was mostly his own carelessness. A heavy hand descended on his shoulder, and he looked up to find Shen had fallen into step beside him.

"It's okay," he said. "Don't take everything too quickly."

"But how?" Sokka asked. "We have so much to do and..."

"One day at a time," Shen told him. "We'll get there eventually. But if you keep thinking about how long the road ahead of you is, you'll be overwhelmed and never make it to the end. You have to think smaller. Take everything in doses you can handle. Once you reach that threshold, save the rest of it for another day."

Sokka frowned, staring at his shoes. "I just hope I have enough days left to split the work on, then."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"So...what has you so wound up this evening?" Iroh asked, pouring Zuko a cup of tea as the boy carefully mended the seam of his tunic by firelight. He put the sewing down, reaching for the tea to cover the purse of his lips.

"I'm not wound up. I just don't know who the friend they mentioned is, and no one's bothered to tell me. I'm not in the loop and it's a little frustrating when I'm part of their team, too. Or at least I think I am." He resumed the sewing, hand moving stiff though still nimble enough. "Plus, it's just the three of them. I know Toph and Katara can take care of themselves, but I don't know how well they'd fare if they have to babysit him, too."

He could just about feel Iroh's brow arch at him. "Prince Zuko? You're ranting."

He sighed, forcing himself to keep his eye on the needle rather than stare into the fire like he usually did when upset. "I know. I'm sorry, Uncle."

"No one said you had to apologize, you know."

"Then why did you point it out?"

Iroh sipped his own tea, leaning back a little. "Because you said you weren't upset when you very clearly are."

"I should know by now there's no fooling you, shouldn't I?"

"I would hope you had figured it out by now, yes." He smiled. "So what are you really upset about?"

Zuko set the sewing down, not trusting himself to handle a pointy object any longer. "The person they're going to see... Sokka and Aang spoke as if she has a specific connection to him."

"I see. And you're afraid that connection is...personal?"

He didn't like the way his uncle uttered that last word, but he chose not to address it despite the scowl. "I'm just worried that she might be trusting someone whom she really, really shouldn't. Like she did with Jet."

"Even though the Earthbender will be able to tell instantly if this friend of hers is lying."

Zuko felt his gut twist painfully, and for the first time since he was still a child and Azula was teasing him about his nonexistent feelings for that sullen friend of hers, he wanted to protest as loudly and obnoxiously as he could.

But it felt different. He wasn't angry, the way he'd been when accused of fancying a girl who wasn't and never would be his type. Instead, he felt restless and slightly panicked, as though he had a chink in his armor that his uncle had come dangerously close to hitting.

Instead, he swallowed thickly, looking back at the half-finished sewing. "I...I guess you're right."

Iroh chuckled. "You worry too much. They'll be fine."

Zuko nodded, picking the sewing back up. Of course he knew they would be all right. It was himself he wasn't so sure about.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Katara? Wow! Long time no see!"

She laughed as she slid down from Appa's saddle, greeting him with a firm hug. "Yeah, it's me. How's your dad?"

"He's doing great," he said, giving her shoulders a brief squeeze beforte releasing her. "The whole village is pretty much back to normal." "He frowned hard. "But...we heard what happened at Ba Sing Se..."

Sokka scuffed his feet on the ground, swallowing thickly. "That's...kinda why we're here, actually. We need your help. The whole village's help, really."

He blinked. "Us? Why?"

Katara sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly. "Omashu is the only Earth Kingdom stronghold left, but it's under Fire Nation control. We...have a plan to liberate it, but we need a really large force of skilled Earthbenders." Her voice shook a little, and in that moment, she understood what had gone through Sokka's mind aboard that battleship, when he'd asked her and Zuko to support his counterattack. "I know it's a lot to ask of you, and I'm not saying you must, but--"

"Are you kidding?"

They both looked at him, fearing for a moment that he was going to call them insane and run them out of town. But instead, he smiled warmly. "You're the reason my village is free, Katara. This is the least we can do to repay what you did for us."

"You haven't even heard the plan yet," Toph interjected. He shook his head.

"I don't have to. We owe Katara our freedom. Helping whatever plan she's a part of to end this war is worth that price."

Katara felt her cheeks burn. "Thanks, Haru. You have no idea how much we appreciate it."

He smiled. "I can imagine, though. So where's Aang? I'm surprised you brought the bison, but not its master."

"He's at the camp on the outskirts of Omashu," Sokka said, "with the survivors of Ba Sing Se. If you ready the village, we'll lead you to him."

"Sure thing. How long can you wait? Because it might take us a couple of days to get everything together."

"A couple days is fine," Katara said. "We'll stay outside the village with Appa and--"

"Nonsense."

They all turned to see the wizened figure of Haru's father striding up to them. "No saviors of our village will have to sleep outside. You'll have a room at the inn, on us."

Katara's cheeks reddened further. "Thank you, sir. Your generosity is humbling."

"Hardly," Tyroh replied. "It's an honor. If anyone should be humbled around here, it's us." He smiled. "I suppose I couldn't interest you in dinner, could?"

"Are _you_ kidding?" Sokka asked. "Best idea I've heard all day!"

Haru laughed into his hand, turning to lead them to his mother's house. "In that case, I hope you're as hungry as you look."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Zuko held his hands closer to the fire, watching the rest of the camp with a kind of dismal resignation, too tired and miserable to join the impromptu party that some of the civilians had started with the convoy's baijuu supply.

Not that Zuko was adverse to soused celebration; on the contrary, he'd been quite the avid drinker when he still had a ship and crew. But he rarely drank when he felt this horrible already, as the physical side effects of inebriation made him _more_ aware of how bad he felt, not less.

Instead, he hoped watching the antics of a large, moderately intoxicated group would fill the void.

"Hey Zuko!"

He looked up, arching a brow as Aang came striding up to him. "Whatcha doin' all the way out here?"

He swallowed thickly, averting his gaze. "Nothing. Just...not in a party mood tonight."

"Dang," Aang scoffed. "Too bad. 'Cause you're really missing out on some fun."

He wanted to say that he didn't consider a hangover while attempting to train and prepare for the war's deciding battle fun, but he bit his tongue admirably. "I'm sure there will be plenty for me to catch up on."

"Man, what is it with you broody Fire Nation types anyway? You're so serious all the time."

Zuko shrugged. "Don't know. Though that could be why we just destroyed the largest Earth Kingdom city ever built."

"Pfft, whatever. I'm gonna go lose another round of Pai Sho." And with that, he just about skipped off toward the larger bonfire, leaving Zuko to stare after him with an arched brow before he shook his head and went back to warming his hands.

"Gotta hand it to him. That kid knows how to relax."

He looked up to see Lao settle down on the log across from him, skin of baijuu in hand. He sighed, looking back at the ground. "Yeah. He does."

The soldier knocked back a sip, looking up at the group gathered around the main fire. "So I guess you're not feeling too swift, either?"

Zuko shook his head. "Not really. Got too much on my mind."

"Well so did the Avatar. But a few sips of this stuff, and he couldn't be happier."

Zuko blinked, looking from Lao to where Aang was watching Shen and Iroh dueling at a Pai Sho table and back again. "What the... You got him _drunk?_"

Lao shrugged. "Only a few sips. He asked what I was having, I told him, and he wanted to try some."

Zuko slapped his forehead. "No wonder he won't shut up."

"Eh, it'll get through his system quickly enough. He's more tipsy than drunk, really." He took another sip. "So what's got you too miserable to get smashed?"

"More like what doesn't. That list is shorter." He sighed. "I'd just...rather not talk about it."

"Mmm." He looked up to where Zuko had a minute ago, sighing. "I know the feeling."

Zuko cocked his head at him, following his gaze to Shen and Iroh. "What's wrong?"

Lao shook his head, seeming to snap himself out of it and taking another long draught. "Nothing."

"Nothing my ass. What's with all the looking and sighing?"

Lao waved it off, forcibly averting his gaze. "Don't worry about it. It's stupid."

"What's stupid about it? I promise, I won't say anything."

Lao stared back at his baijuu skin for a minute, as though weighing his words carefully. "It's...stupid to wish for things you know you'll never have."

Zuko frowned, swallowing thickly and looking once more to Shen and his uncle duelling, then back to Lao's forlorn face. While he wasn't necessarily sure if he was right, even a suspicion was enough to fire up a sympathetic ache in his chest.

_That's crazy. Just because you owe her your life a couple times over doesn't mean..._

He shook his head, glad in more than a few ways that he hadn't had anything to drink. "Yeah. I know what you mean. And you don't want to say anything because you stand more risk of hurting people than getting anything good out of it." The ache intensified, and for a moment he wished he hadn't spoken. That even in such vague terms, he was saying too much.

Lao nodded, knocking back another sip of his drink, a knowing frown on his face as he looked back at the fire. "We all keep secrets. Some, we're meant to pass on before we die. Others...are best taken with us."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	6. Art of War

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 6: Art of War

* * *

He sat by the fire, warming his hands long after everyone else had gone to bed, tucking a thick lock of hair behind his scarred ear. The night was deep and dark as the well in the palace gardens that Azula pushed him into as a child, and he looked up through the inky darkness to see the moon peeking down at him through the curtain of clouds. There was nothing but the ambient chirping of insects and the crackle of flames to keep his thoughts company, and perhaps that was for the best as he wrapped his arms around himself with a sudden chill.

The day of the eclipse wasn't far off. The day that they would invade Omashu. The day that would decide, in a matter of hours, the course of the rest of the war. If they couldn't win this, there was no second chance. And he was ultimately at the helm. It was his idea, and he was responsible for the outcome, good or bad.

The weight of that pressure felt like a vice on his chest, crushing his heart but not quite enough to explode it yet. Only enough to make him shudder and substitute two pots of his uncle's best black ginseng for sleep.

His ears pricked at the sound of far off footsteps crunching through the grass, and he whipped around to face where the sound came from. A good thirty yards off, by the sound of it, and the march of many feet. His eyes narrowed, feet quietly sliding into stance. There was no need to strike first, as he didn't hear the sound of clinking swords and armor. Whoever these people were, they were definitely not soldiers.

"Hey hey! Relax, man!"

He let his body slump at the familiar sound of Sokka's voice, a hard breath heaving out of his lungs. "Well. You're awfully late."

"It's okay," Sokka assured him. "We stayed off the main roads. But more importantly, we have our Earthbenders." He smiled, standing aside as what looked like a whole village worth of men, of varying ages but all dressed in the simple green and brown clothes of Earth Kingdom commonry. But at the head of their group stood a more prominent-looking young man, about his own age, with a high ponytail and green headband keeping his hair back.

Katara stepped forward, gesturing to him. "Ah...Zuko, this is Haru. Haru, meet Zuko."

The boy smiled nervously, pressing his hands together and bowing slightly. "Well met. Um...Katara's said much about you."

Zuko returned the gesture, doing his best to hide the reluctance that stiffened his back. "Not all bad things I hope."

Haru shook his head while Katara's cheeks pinkened, though he couldn't rule it out as a trick of the firelight. "Not at all. I'm...quite impressed, really. I didn't think that...that..."

"...That someone from the Fire Nation was capable of changing his mind?"

Haru sighed, letting his shoulders slump. "Don't take it that way. Please."

Zuko shook his head. "After all my people have done to you, I think you have every right to be surprised we're not all warmongers who drink the blood of our kill. The challenge is accepting that fact and not continuing to hate out of habit."

Sokka nodded, stepping forward. "So about this plan. How exactly are we supposed to take back a city with one trained battalion, some marginally trained civilians, a bunch of clay statues, and our good looks?"

"Simple. We train the civilians using the full battalion, have the Earthbenders you just brought in control the clay statues, and get everyone who knows the layout of the city to tell us any weaknesses we can exploit." He let his lips curve into a slight grin, hoping to lighten the mood. "The good looks just make us more awesome while doing it."

Sokka and Haru blinked at each other, then turned back to him. "You're aware that we're likely to lose half our numbers in this, right? If we fail, there won't be any other chances."

Zuko nodded. "I know that. Which is why we're not going to fail, plain and simple."

Haru frowned harder, looking almost annoyed. "You're awfully confident."

"I have to be. Combat is one of those situations in which you can't have any doubt, because your enemies will see it and jump on it like a pack of wild dogs on a wounded ostrich-horse."

Katara smiled, reaching out to pat his arm. "Which means we should get started, then, shouldn't we?"

He swallowed thickly as he met that gaze, feeling something flutter in his chest at that confident grin and strong fingers, a firm grip that seemed to warm itself the longer she kept her hand on him. Until he felt his lips melt into an answering smile, despite the valiant effort to keep blood from rising in his cheeks.

"Yeah. We got a long way to go."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Are you suggesting I can't fight with the rest of you because I'm not a bender?" Sokka growled. "'Cause if you are..."

Zuko pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, attempting to stave off the beginnings of a tension headache. "No. I'm suggesting you're not cut out for this battle because you're not trained, and the standing army at Omashu is. They'll cut you down before you even get a chance to strike."

"So what _would_ you have me do?"

Zuko shrugged. "I was going to train you. So that you know how to hit things rather than swing and pray."

Sokka blinked. "You're joking. After all the times we've kicked your ass, _you_ want to train _me?_"

Zuko let himself smirk slightly. "Must I remind you of that time when I first landed at the South Pole? You know, when you rushed me all dramatic-like and I kicked you headfirst into a snowdrift?"

H scowled. "Not really, no."

Zuko's smile faded into seriousness again. "This is nothing like the skirmishes you've faced until now. Not even the Northern Siege is going to touch it. You have to be able to hold your own ten to one and not die in as many seconds. Because that's how much they outnumber us, and you don't have a glider to evade them with.

"I'm not saying you aren't a fighter. If you weren't, you'd have died many times over by now. But the soldiers you're facing have formal training, were raised in a culture that's promoted the war as righteous cause, and have years of experience on their side. You don't. You have skills, but they aren't guided."

"And what exactly qualifies you to teach me?" Sokka asked. "Your specialty is Firebending. Which I can't do."

Zuko shook his head. "Bending is hardly my specialty. I'm mediocre at best. Which is why I've been supplementing my combat skills with broadswords since I was old enough to swing a stick. If anything, I can teach you how not to die."

Sokka sighed, looking down at the half-finished breakfast he'd been working on, looking suddenly not very hungry anymore. "Why the hell not. Don't have much to lose, really. When do I start?"

"Tonight," Zuko affirmed. "We don't have much time, and we need to use every day of it."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

She poked the braided cord under the armor, and satisfied that there were no arrow-sized gaps, went back to strengthening the stitches that held the plate armor in place. All in all, she marveled, it was not much of a surprise that the Fire Nation armies were nearly invincible. They had layers of protection on their side for just about every conceivable way to kill a person, from swordblows to arrow strikes.

Even the helmets included a face guard. The only weak points she could really see were tiny, almost impossible to hit. Especially on a moving target. The back of the neck, and the cutouts for the eyes on the face guard. Otherwise, anyone in full armor was almost fully protected from conventional weapons.

Certainly, she thought, from weapons the Fire Nation themselves had.

"How's it coming?"

She scowled inwardly at the voice, wrenching the thread to tighten the stitch. "Fine."

He sighed, dropping to sit next to her and offering some smoked meat and a biscuit wordlessly. She gave it one glance, before meeting his eyes with stare that just about asked if he was joking. He averted his eyes, staring at the ground. "Good. I'm glad."

She turned back to the sewing, voice stiff. "You don't sound glad."

"That's because this whole plan is insane and I doubt any of you are coming back alive."

Her hands tightened with rising anger. The kind that made her chest burn. "And what would you have us do? Kick back and let them win?"

"Considering they already have? Why the hell not." He swallowed thickly. "It's better than throwing my life away on a suicide mission."

"That's funny," she muttered. "You only seem to care about throwing life away when it's your own. A village full of innocent civilians? They're just in the way."

"Good God, how long are you going to lord that over my head? I was wrong, I'm not proud of it anymore, and I learned my lesson."

"As long as you live," she said coldly. "Believe me, few people in this world deserve it more than you."

"So let me get this straight. You plan on ushering in an era of world peace for the next thousand years or so, yet you won't forgive one guy for one mistake no matter how many times he says he's sorry. How exactly does that work? If you can't forgive me, how do you plan on forgiving the soldiers who burned your home and killed your family?"

"Because those soldiers weren't given a choice. They follow orders. You? You're a freedom fighter for godsakes. You don't answer to anyone but yourself. And you chose to be a monster."

He tore a mouthful of bread off his biscuit, to keep his teeth from grinding. "So I guess this Shen dude was given an order to desert? And Firebender Boy was given an order to turn on his own country? Even soldiers have a choice. How come you can forgive hi-- _them_, but not me?"

She finally looked up from her sewing, eyes narrowed. "Why do you want me to? Why do you need my forgiveness so badly?"

"Because you were the one I hurt," he said, eyes looking slightly misty in the harsh sun. "I just...don't want to leave it like this. I want sorry to be enough. You don't even have to talk to me ever again if you don't want to. I just don't want to lose the one chance I have to make it up to you before you're gone..."

Her eyes narrowed again, the look on his face stern and resolved, but behind it a pitiful begging kind that made her want to punch him very, very hard. "Hate to break it to you, buster, but 'sorry' will never be enough. Not after you used me and lied to me with a straight face. I can't and won't trust anything that comes out of your mouth."

He sighed heavily, staring at the ground. "So I guess I should just go die or something, then?"

She turned back to her sewing. "I don't care what you do with your life. Just leave me out of it."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Zuko took a hard breath, letting the fire loose from his hand in a straight shot toward the target, staring it down as that familiar hot breeze whipped his hair across his face. He blinked as the ends of those strands stung his cheeks for a moment.

Just in time to miss the rather large pillar of rock he was aiming for by a good two inches.

He growled under his breath, giving the dirt at his feet a frustrated kick. This was ridiculous. Sure, his aim and form were no match for Azula, but he could certainly hit a stationary target at thirty paces. Or at least he could a few months ago. Before his life fell apart entirely.

_Nonsense_. He had more purpose in his life now than he ever had before. He knew what to do, and even more importantlky, he knew that it was the right thing. There should be no reason for him to miss the broad side of a warship.

"Practice not going well?"

He looked up at the voice, recognizing the new Earthbender friend of Katara's immediately. Wary, he tucked a thick shaft of hair behind his ear. "Understatement of the month. My aim is worse than a lizardbat and I have no idea why."

Haru cocked his head, frowning thoughtfully. "No offense or anything, but how long has it been since you've had a haircut?"

Zuko blinked at him. "What?"

"Your hair," he said. "It's...pretty long. And in your face."

Zuko felt his cheeks burn. People down recognize me with my hair like this. Kind of a habit to change your appearance when you're a fugitive."

Haru nodded. "Except for when it gets in your eyes and utterly throws your aim off."

Zuko sighed heavily. "Got any tips?"

The boy smiled, reaching into the large pouch at his belt and pulling out a wide, long strip of cloth. "Well, not a tip, but a neat little invention. Here."

Zuko took it, looking it over. "A headband?"

"Yeah. Easy to use, cheap, and effective." He smirked. "You won't see any self-respecting Earth Kingdom boy with hair past his shoulders who doesn't use one."

Zuko frowned. "One strip can't dop it all, though. Don't you need to tie it back, too?"

"Not the way I do it." His cheeks flushed, a notable feat through his tan. "I can show you if you want."

Zuko cracked a tiny smile. "If it'll help me survive a full-scale combat zone? I really can't say no, can I?"

Haru turned him around, and he felt the boy bring the cloth against his forehead. His eyes slipped closed, letting Haru tie it snugly around his head before dropping the ends to pull the rest of his hair into a high ponytail. He crossed the band's tails under it, then tied them once more above to secure it.

"There you go. Try to hit it now."

Zuko's eyes slid open, and he took stance once more, aiming for the rock pillar's tall, skinny top. Another blast of fire flew from his fingertips with a rush of breath, but this time the breeze did nothing but dry the sweat from his brow.

He grinned, watching the fire scorch the rock's pinnacle.

He turned to Haru, smiling widely. "Thanks. I owe you."

Haru chuckled, waving the notion away. "After Omashu. You buy the baijuu and I'll call it even."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

So you made a decision, then."

Shen nodded. "It's long after the fact. Really, what would be the point of saying anything now? The wound is scabbed over and healed, there's no reason to go tearing it open again."

Lao sighed heavily. "You would prefer to take this one to the grave, then."

"Considering what we're up against, I may not have to wait long."

Lao felt his insides shudder. "Please. Don't say such things."

"It's only reality," Shen mused. "I think I've dodged the canon one too many times to get lucky again."

"And all this time, you've forgotten what Jiu told you. That the man who dies with even the weight of a feather on his conscience must live seven lives to clear it."

Shen swirled the tea at the bottom of his cup. "I don't care if I have to live seven hundred lives to clear this weight. I can't destroy a man's life twice."

"Shen...he has a right to know. Put yourself in his shoes for a moment. What would you want?"

The man closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. "I would want to remain ignorant. I would want the man responsible to have enough respect for the suffering he knows he's already caused to keep his mouth shut and let me live the rest of my life in peace."

Lao sighed, unable to shake the feeling of icy dread in his gut. "I know I can't stop you or change your mind. But I can tell you to be careful what you wish for, and what secrets you keep. They always have a way of coming back to haunt you." He looked up, meeting his captain's eyes and fighting down the mist in his own and the clench in his chest. "If you fall in battle...can I be the one to settle the matter?"

Shen paused a moment, then finally nodded. "It's your secret, too. When I'm gone, the choice is up to you."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It was much, much later when Zuko finally returned to camp, determined to get himself some tea and a good rest, as his uncle had always advised after a day of hard practice. And that was when he found a lone figure sitting up by the fire, hunched over the sitting logs. Rubbing his eyes, he inched closer, recognizing Katara's braid hanging over the dark blue blanket she'd curled up under. Try as he might, he couldn't completely quell the flutter in his chest at the thought that she might've been waiting for him, since everyone on first watch had apparently gone to bed.

Or not. As a second figure approaching from the shadows seemed to dictate. His eyes narrowed as he clung to the shadows at the edge of the firelight, watching and wary. It didn't take long to recognize Jet's features and clothing, and he immediately felt his insides tense and clench. Even moreson as the boy bent down to her, reaching a hand out to brush the hair from her face.

A stinging surge of something he did not want to call jealousy despite how much like it it felt rose up from his stomach, and he kept his eyes trained on the boy like a hunting raptor as he gathered Katara up against him. Cheek to her temple, eyes closing with a heavy sigh. And a look that made the sudden flood of envy soften just a bit.

He turned, starting to carry her to her tent. Zuko followed silently, crouching near the entrance to see as Jet put her down in her bedroll, covering her, kneeling beside her and taking her hand for a moment too long, giving it a brief, gentle squeeze before tucking it down on the pillow by her cheek. He rose to leave with a hard swallow, brushing right past Zuko as though in a daze, surreptitiously wiping the corner of his eye.

Unable to stand it anymore, Zuko cleared his throat. "Hey. Something wrong?"

Jet stopped dead in his tracks, but didn't turn around. "I'm fine. What's it to you?"

Zuko frowned. "Could've fooled me."

Jet snorted. "I'm about to bury her along with everyone else they've taken from me. Isn't that reason enough to be upset?"

"You think I would let her run headfirst into the fray without watching her back?"

"It doesn't matter what you do. They're going to kill you all. None of you seem to get that," he growled, exasperated. "There won't be any of you left to watch each other's backs. You're a force of maybe six hundred going up against a fully-guarded stronghold of at least three thousand. It's a suicide mission. You'll be lucky if there's anyone of your fighters left to bury _you_."

Zuko looked back at the campfire, murmuring. "They said Ba Sing Se would never fall. It did. They said the Air Nomads were all gone. They're not. I don't see a reason to doubt unless we actually fail."

"Ba Sing Se fell because some idiot invented the means to make it possible," Jet countered. "You found one Air Nomad, who just happens to be the Avatar. Until you've mastered the fine art of pulling miracles or surprise superweapons out of your ass, I'll continue doubting." He sighed, weary. "You aren't risking a damn thing, Zuko. Risking implies there's at least a possibility you can succeed. You? You don't have a chance in hell."

"And yet, you won't offer up a plan of your own. Really, if you've got a better idea, now's the time."

"How about 'don't bother?' I'm not about to tell you there's a better way when I'm positive there isn't even a decent one. I don't need a better idea to know you're out of your mind."

"Then stay out of my way," Zuko growled, lowering his voice to a more dangerous tone. "And out of hers. She has enough to deal with. She doesn't need you making her miserable on top of it."

"You don't realize what you're asking, do you?" he answered. "For me to let her go marching to her grave and not give a damn. Maybe you're capable of that, but I'm not."

A sudden flood of anger churned in Zuko's stomach, like he hadn't felt since Katara had cornered him outside the tea shop that day. His hands balled into fists as he rounded on Jet, grabbing him by the collar with a hard shake. "Don't you even fucking go there. You lost her once because you were dumb enough to hurt her! You don't get to barge in here like some concerned ex-boyfriend to try and get her back! Whether she lives or dies, _you lost her_, and you neither get nor deserve a second chance!

"Don't you even think for a minute that I would send her off to die like that. You know jack shit about me, just like you know jack shit about her. She's going with me because she _wants_ to, and I'm going to watch her back. Just like I'm watching her brother's, the Avatar's, and Toph's. Which is a hell of a lot more than you're doing for _your_ friends, I might add."

Jet wrenched from his grip, shoving him away, hands resting on his sword grips out of refle as he seethed with heavy drawing breaths. "So says the guy who's tried to fucking _kill her_. Multiple times I might add. And now _you're_ the concerned boyfriend? Give me a break. Yeah, I fucked up. I admit that. I was an asshole, and I deserved her beating the shit out of me. But may I ask just what the _fuck_ makes you entitled to her forgiveness, but not me? How come you're allowed to care about her while I'm not?"

He growled, but it was mostly to keep his voice from cracking. Yet there was no mistaking the flash in his eyes or the conviction in his voice. "I know I can't stop you. Personally, I don't care what the hell happens to you. One less Firebender in this world is not something I'll shed tears over. But if you survive and she doesn't? Don't you even think about coming back here, because I will fucking kill you. Slowly and very, very painfully."

Zuko advanced on him, screwing his face up right into his, enough to block the firelight from everything but his eyes. "Good. Because if I come back without her, I'll _ask_ you to."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sokka gritted his teeth in effort as the deafening clang of metal on metal rang in his ears, holding his ground against the force of Zuko's weight and weapon. The only thing between their faces a pair of razor sharp crossed blades.

His heels dug into the soft earth as he fought to keep from sliding backward, grpwling under his breath before he even realized it. Zuko's face in front of him remained a stone-cold mask, the result of years of military training and conditioning. The look of a man who'd seen everything and for whom there were few, if any, surprises to be had on the battlefield.

He barely felt it before it hit him. A powerful sweep against the back of his leg that almost knocked him sprawling. He turned to catch his balance, only to have the flat of Zuko's sword pressed against his back.

"Damn!"

Zuko put the weapon down, going to the rock where their towels and skins of water lay. "I told you. You never turn your back to anything but a corpse. If I was a real soldier, you'd be lying on the ground in pieces right now."

"So how am I supposed to get out of that one?" Sokka asked, irritated as he wiped down his face.

"Sometimes, you have to go with it. Fall." He smirked. Had you let me sweep you, you would've had a perfect opening at my ribs, and I'd be the dead one. The trick is to never leave yourself open, while at the same time waiting for the other guy to screw up."

Sokka frowned, staring at his shoes. "Ever since I was little, when dad left to fight, I wanted to be a warrior. To protect my sister and my village from any further attack. And the more battles I get into, the more I realize just how little I know about war." He sighed, weary. "Sometimes it feels like I'll never get there."

Zuko paused, then set a heavy hand on his shoulder. "I know. I felt that way about Firebending. I _sucked_ at it when I first started training. But eventually I got competent. Not nearly as good as my sister, but enough that I could hold my own. Believe me, you'll get the hang of fighting. If I didn't think you could do it, I would've told you to just sit this one out. I'm training you because I know you're fighter material, and as your friend I'm not letting you walk into the yawning mouth of Hell completely unprepared."

Sokka felt a smile tug at his lips. "Thanks man." He paused, sighing. "Rematch?"

Zuko chuckled, grinning and heading away into the field again. "Bring it."

Sokka let his face harden as he took stance again, rushing him. Zuko brought his blade up to block, just as Sokka had expected. But rather than take his weight head on, this time he crouched and let Zuko loom over him, bending his knees to plant his stance more firmly. Sweat clung to his brow as he counted the seconds, gauged the increasing force of Zuko's weight, figuring out in his mind exactly how this maneuver would work.

He sucked in a breath, rocking back on his heels and letting himself tumble out from under Zuko's blade. The look on the boy's face was pricelessly comical as his momentum sent him sprawling forward while Sokka rolled back to his feet, taking full advantage of the slit-second confusion to plant the flat of his blade squarely across Zuko's shoulders.

He looked up, pouty for a moment before laughing and rising to his feet. "Good work. _Excellent_ work."

Sokka felt his chest flutter a bit. "You think?"

"You would've sent my head rolling if this were actual combat, so I'd say yeah. I think." He smiled, looking thoughtful for a moment before laying the one broadsword across his open palms, holding it out to him.

Sokka felt his stomach clench, mouth going dry as he looked at the weapon. Half of a whole, as Zuko had told him.

"Go ahead. It's yours."

Sokka swallowed thickly, setting his own down and taking sword with shaking hands. Just the weight of it felt perfect. Balanced and well-crafted. He twirled it around once, bringing it in front of his face and turning it to see his reflection on the flat of the blade, heart pounding from more than just the workout.

"...Thanks."

Zuko smiled at him. "Don't thank me. You've earned it."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	7. Omashu

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 7: Omashu

* * *

His features hardened as he drew the whetstone along the blade of his sabre, grinding his teeth at the sound. Even afrter five years of hearing that noise, day in and day out and every moment in between, it still drove his nerves haywire. And he doubted it would ever stop being that annoying.

Five years. He laughed to himself every time someone noticed the embroidered rib on his sleeve, or the prominent red sash that draped his chest. A wall guardsmen who survived more than a month was celebrated. One who survived six months was revered. If he made it a year without dying or getting irreparably maimed, he was a god among men. An unnatural creature that commanded fear, respect, and awe, no matter his actual rank.

A god five times over, worshipped by none. The thought made him smile bitterly.

"Captain Zha!"

He snapped up at the voice, which belonged to one of his men who now ran toward him, skidding to a halt. "What is it?"

"The front gate..." he panted, bent over and propping himself up with his hands on his knees. "...Invasion... Headed... To the front gate..."

He shook his head in confusion, a sudden tightness in his chest. "Wait, what? The hell are you talking about?"

The soldier finally stood at attention after catching his breath. "An invading army, Sir. The front line is headed toward the main gate."

Zha's eyes narrowed. Who the hell would be crazy enough to attack a completely fortified citadel? And from the front gate no less? "How many?"

The boy swallowed thickly. "It's hard to tell. It definitely looks to be less than two hundred. But..."

"But what?"

The boy averted his eyes, his breath shaky. "Th-They're... They're Fire Nation. Or at least they're in Fire Nation uniforms..."

Zha felt his gut twist, and nearly dropped the whetstone. "And they're attacking us? How do you know?"

The soldier nodded. "Y-Yes, Sir. They wear our uniforms, but they carry no flag. Nor do they respond when signaled. N-Not even to General Chiang's crest. They're just...advancing. And quickly."

Zha closed his eyes, taking in a long breath. "Engage them. Ready the archers and launch the first volley of fire as soon as the front line is in range. I'll head the infantry to meet them once they clear the archers' scope."

"...Sir?"

He looked up at him, voice sharp as freshly honed blade in his hand. "You have a hearing problem, soldier? I said engage them. Now."

"But they're our own--"

"They're attacking us," Zha cut him off. "That's all I need to know."

The boy bowed again. "Yes, sir. At once, sir."

Zha put down the whetstone as the soldier left, grabbing his belt to gird up for battle.

_Whoever you are...if it's a fight you want? Ask and you shall receive._

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Not for the first time, Sokka wondered why he ever went along with this plan. The familiar stench of Omashu sewer invaded his senses, turning his stomach. But even the smell of mouldering waste couldn't do a worse number on him than the nerves.

"How do we know when to get going?" he asked, nudging Zuko ahead of him.

The other boy drew his sword, bracing himself on the wall, ignoring the smell of the mold growing between the cracks in the mortar. "As soon as the runner comes back from the front line. Once we know the main gate division is engaged, we'll let 'er rip."

Sokka nodded, clenching his hand around the hilt of his own weapon to keep it from shaking. "Sounds good."

The hours wore on. Or minutes. At this point, he really couldn't tell. And other than the scheduled time frame they had to take advantage of the heavens, it really didn't matter all that much. His thoughts wandered as much as his eyes, to the armed civilians behind him. Ready to throw their lives into the fray, with no expectation of coming back home.

_Because there was no home to go back to_, he reminded himself. These people had lost everything but their lives, and for most of them, even those had ceased to have any meaning. Until now.

He heard the commotion in the tunnel behind him flare up. "Front line is at the gate! Wall guard is engaged!"

A surge of pulse, breathing, and the shift of weapons and armor, an ecstasy of fumbling and noise. It clamored behind him as Zuko threw his shoulder at the sewer exit, shoving it open and charging into the street with a yell. The surprised gasps of Fire Nation peacekeepers greeted them, only to be silenced seconds later by the whistling of sabres and the crunch of wooden staves against bone. Bodies fell where they stood in the initial moments of the onslaught, cut down long before they could react.

Sokka himself felt blood splatter his breastplate before he even realized his sword had sliced the soldier before him from shoulder to hip.

His hands shook as it hit him. He hadn't just sent an enemy balloon plummeting to the earth thousands of feet below, never seeing the man hit the ground or hearing his screams on the way there. He had a man's blood on his hands, now. On his face. His chest.

He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Not until Zuko pushed him forward, yelling. "Come on! You can't stand around like that!"

"I just--"

"I know," Zuko cut him off, though his own voice shook as well, the pallor in his cheeks more than evident even on one so fair. "It's war. It's what we do."

Sokka swallowed hard, following him with the blindest of detachments, determined not to see the faces of any who met his blade. They were trying to kill him, after all, and he had only one choice: kill them first. He couldn't afford to be human about it.

There was too much at stake for him to drop the ball again.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"How many of them?"

The soldier swallowed thickly, despite his hardened features. "About a hundred and fifty. It's no contest. We'll cut them down like the weeds they are."

"And the forces that have just attacked the flank?"

He swallowed again, sweat beading on his brow. "Another one-fifty."

The older man smiled thinly. "I trust you'll cut them down as well? With which forces?" The boy was about to answer when he cut him off. "Captain Zha, you are my best and brightest. But occasionally, your stupidity astounds me when it comes to even the simplest of strategy."

Mai watched the exchange from her place beside the smiling Azula, noting the captain's tense posture. The same kind her father always had when he knew he would receive a harsh reprimand.

"How many rabbit-mole hunts have you been on, Captain?"

"None, sir," Zha answered, voice drawn tight as a crossbow.

"A shame. But to make a long explanation short, dogs hunt rabbit-moles in packs for a reason. The rodents live underground, and the entrance of their burrow is always wider than the exit. While one dog attacks the entrance head on, another starts making a smaller fuss at the other end. The rabbit-moles, thinking inciorrectly that the danger from both sides is equal, split their number to defend both ends of the burrow. That's when the dog at the entrance is able to advance, driving the them to the exit where his partner has begun to dig once he hears them coming. When they meet in the middle?" He grinned. "The hunt is over. For the rodents, at least."

Mai felt cold as she watched Zha's reaction. Chilled, as though by the touch of a revenant.

"So what would you have us do, General Chiang?"

"Simple. Do what the rabbit-moles would if they lived long enough to learn. Defend the gate at all costs. Leave the street guard to handle the flank. Once the enemy gets in the front door, it's all overwith."

Zha licked his lips, bowing. "So noted."

He left, and Mai watched as Azula grinned widely. "It's so nice to see a man in control of his subordinates for once."

He nodded, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I try, Your Higness. And I'm flattered that my efforts are worthy of your praise."

Mai's stomach did a sickening flip. Of all the things to be impressed by...but then, she knew it shouldn't come as a surprise. This was Azula. Control was her second name, and in all the years Mai had known her, she'd never felt like a friend. But like the good girl she was raised to be, she never complained. Never made waves. After all, that's what proper women did, whether it was friend or husband. They sat on their thumbs and bit their tongues and saved face and pride.

Proper girls had no friends. They had acquaintances and alliances. And alliances didn't get much more powerful than the daughter of the Royal Family.

"Mai?"

She blinked, only then noticing Ty Lee's hand waving in front of her face.

"...Y-Yeah?"

Herr friend smiled. Though to Mai it looked as though the girl's face might crack with it. "Azula says we need to go with her. To keep an eye on the gate."

Mai sighed, following her down the main corridor, out the the passage to one of the wall's front watch towers.

"Of course. Anything for the princess..."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"So...what exactly are we waiting for?"

Jin crouched against the wall, readying her guandao. "For confirmation that both the main gate guard and that of the city's right flank division are nicely distracted," she said. "In order for this maneuver to work, we have to split the city's defenses."

Smellerbee nodded. "Mob rules. They could chop us down easy if we came at them from a single point, but not when we've got 'em surrounded."

"Right. Once our runner gives the word, we go to town."

Not for the first or last time, the young freedom fighter wondered why Jet thought this was crazy. Nobody was rushing into it. They had a plan to use what little they had as effectively as possible, and to have the occupying force's weakness fully exploited by the time the eclipse was in play. There was no better way to go about it than what they were doing. And if it was one thing she learned from fighting the Fire Nation the last few years, it was that nothing was impossible.

She ground her teeth in annoyance, recalling Jet asking her once and for all whose side she was on. She'd declined to answer, wanting to say that if he hadn't figured that out already, then he had no right to call her friend. But she'd bitten her tongue admirably, for not even she could bring herself to be that cold.

Longshot leaned in behind her, bow at the ready. And she knew as she looked up at him and caught the confident look in his eye, the difference between him and Jet. One required words to get his point across. For the other, words themselves were far too vague a medium, for nothing could communicate the young archer's thoughts better than his eyes.

"It's time! Go now! The right flank and the main gate are both engaged!"

Smellerbee drew her daggers, charging forward with the rest of the assembled crowd behind her, not looking back. Not wanting to see Longshot remaining in front of the broken sewer entrance with the rest of the civilian archers he'd trained while she ran on ahead to engage the city's left flank guard. The first battle she'd ever seen where he was not by her side.

_I'll be behind you instead,_ he'd told her. _I'll have your back._

Like he always did.

She smiled as she sliced the enemy soldier in front of her down, across the back. It was all the reassurance in the world she'd ever need.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

For the first time he could ever remember, Shen thanked his lucky crickets that Fire Nation armor was as effective against friendly fire as it was against enemy. Despite a volley of arrows raining down from the wall, very few of his men had been picked off. Or at least fewer than he'd expected. They were still a good fifty yards from the gate and the arrow supply seemed endless. But the archers' scope wasn't and he knew it. As soon as theyt were out of range, the real attack would begin.

He braced his shield above his head, blocking another rain of arrow fire. "Not much further! We'll be out of scope soon!"

Sooner than he thought, it seemed. The arrows ceased, and he looked up from under his shield with apprehnsion as the great iron gate started to open with an eerie squeal of protest. In no battle he had been in had these signs ever ended well.

"Everyone, maintain your guard. I have no idea what they're planning, but it doesn't look good."

His suspicions were confirmed a moment later as the front line of fully armed infantry came barreling at them. Wall guards, from the look of the close fitting uniforms and the sahs rather than the cloak. He turned to Lao, who nodded his agreement.

"_Charge!_"

All hell broke loose.

He and Lao diverged, leading their front line into two dividions to meet the wall guard, closing in from opposite sides with a bristling wall of spears and fire. Twin phalanxes squeezing the soldiers trapped between them.

He knew immediately why these guards had been sent out first, his face grim as he blazed down one after another as though they were training targets. Indeed, they may as well have been. Inexperienced, barely trained children. Though he made it a point not to look at their faces -- no good soldier ever did -- he knew by how easily they fell. The stiffness anbd shock with which they moved. The same way he had so many years ago in the first assault he'd fought in.

_Fresh meat_, he thought. _All the better to distract dogs with._

He was just starting to wonder when the main forces were going to surround them when his fireblast met a swishing blade rather than a soldier's flesh. He looked up, taking note of this one's face. Young, couldn't be more than his twenties. But with a permanent crease at the side of his mouth that he knew shouldn't be there.

And from the rib on his sleeve, he knew why.

The boy said nothing as he swung again, dissipating the next blast of flame with ruthless efficiency and bringing the blade back around for a strike that Shen barely managed to duck under. He wasted no time in using the opening to catch him in the side with a sharp whip of flame.

The boy stumbled backward, clutching his chest, giving Shen time to ready a breath for another blast. But he had no chance to release it before the boy suddenly dropped into a low attack, swinging a lightning-fast blade to his side.

It took barely a moment for the pain to hit him, although he swerved out of the way before the strike could cut any deeper. While it hurt, he didn't feel the telltale flow of warmth down his side. The most he would have was a bruise.

All of this went through his mind in mere seconds before a solid boot sole rammed into his chest, knocking him over even as he barely reeled from the side blow. And next that he knew, the boy's weight was on top of him, and only his hands braced the sabre's glistening edge a mere inch from his throat.

Ordinarily, he would've just thrown him. But the way this kid handled a blade, any lax in his arms would give his assailant the exact opening he was looking for. He watched the boy's lip curl in a feral grin, pushing harder. He was strong for such a young man, and Shen felt the blade inch closer, the metal cold and sharp against his skin. He could barely see the boy's face because of the angle now, the hand gripping the hilt taking up most of his view.

While he normally would be too preoccupied with not dying to notice anything about his enemies, this one seemed different. Likely because he was the only one on the field putting up any kind of fight instead of falling where he stood. But whatever the reason, the glint of metal other than a sword caught his eye, and it took him a moment to realize it was a ring on the boy's right hand.

A signet, silver, with a crest in prominent relief adorning the top. Twin dragons entwined around a lightning bolt, with a storm cloud crowning the arrangement. He felt his blood turn to Spring meltwater.

No way. Not real.

_Not. Possible._

He looked up at the boy's face once more, though all he could see were his eyes above the blade. But even those were enough. Small and dark, narrow and just barely almond shaped. Eyes he would know anywhere, as well as he knew his own. It took all his willpower to keep the blade at bay.

_You!_"

TO BE CONTINUED...


	8. The Rubicon

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 8: The Rubicon

* * *

"You!"

Zha let the surprise register on his face for barely a moment before the force behind his arms lapsed in confusion. The other man stared at him, wide-eyed, as though seeing a ghost.

"You! Who are you?"

He was vehement, throwing Zha easily as he got up, but his attack stance was dropped. "Where did you get that ring?"

Zha backed away, sabre still in front of him and at the ready. "Why does it matter?"

"It just does. Who are you?"

His eyes narrowed. "Zha. Captain. You want my serial, too?"

The man lowered his blazing fist, hand shaking. "No. Your...Your name is enough."

Zha felt his grip waver on his weapon, but only for a moment. "Now it's my turn. Who the hell are _you?_"

The man backed up, now just looking scared. "Shen," he whispered. "Shen Lei. Captain..."

It was Zha's turn to stare, wide-eyed, at the man before him, hands suddebly feeling weak and the sabre they held becoming a lead weight in his grip.

_His name... He knows of this ring..._

No. It couldn't be.

"Liar!" he spat. "He's dead!"

The man shook his head. "No he's not. I--"

"My father is _dead!_" Zha yelled, charging him with a series of wild swings of his weapon. "How..._dare_...you!"

Shen met him with an arm bracing the force, catching Zha's forearms with a bruising block. "Please...I speak the truth. I _am_ Shen Lei..."

Zha felt his face contort in something caught between fury and terror. A feeling he'd never in his life known before that moment. A sour, sick feeling in his gut, his chest crushing in on itself as if caught in one of those centuries-old torture devices he'd read about in military school but never seen in action, the corners of his eyes burning with angry tears. Try as he might to stop them, they streamed over his face as he strained against Shen's block, wanting more than anything to chop the man's head off, if only so he'd quit talking.

"Shut up!" he screamed. "You're _lying!_"

"Did she tell you I was dead?" he asked, strikingly calm. That ring bears the Shen family crest. I gave it to her before I left for war."

_It was your father's. He'd want you to have it..._

His clenched harder. "It's not true! It's _impossible!_"

With a sudden heave forward, Shen finally shoved him off, knocking him to stumble back a good ten feet. "It's true. You know it is."

He was right, Zha knew, though like hell was he going to admit to himself, nevermind the man's face. Even the soldier's eyes were mirrors of his own, dark and glinting in the beating sun like a pair of black pearls.

_Defend the gate at all costs_...

Could he really? Against his own flesh and blood? Against the man whose memory he'd practically worshipped all his life?

Did he really have a choice?

His arms refused to raise his weapon, as though acting with a mind of their own, making a far more effective choice than his head was capable of right now.

In the kind of panic he'd never felt before in his life, not even in his first combat zone, he fled. Legs pumping mindlessly, carrying the rest of his unfeeling body over the threshold to the foot of the guard tower stairs.

He didn't look back.

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They were better prepared than she thought, and that was not a good sign. She'd gotten desperate enough to fashion a spear of ice rather than whip her opponents down and away, as that was doing practically nothing against their heavy armor. If they could just make it through the gate... Once they were inside the city, she knew, everything would be far less defended, what with the flank divisions occupying the city's forces from the inside. The trick was getting there.

She wheeled around to stave off a volley of arrow-fire with a well-placed ice shield, as Iroh caught up beside her.

"We're advancing quickly enough," he said. "as long as we're inside the gate before the sun goes black, we'll win the day."

She shook her head. "This place is better defended than we planned on. I don't know if we'll be able to even break through."

Iroh smiled, deflecting a fireblas from his face with a flick of his hand. "I think you underestimate your friends' resilience."

"It's not their resilience I'm doubting," she said. "I think _we_ underestimated just how well-defended this place is." She met the rush of a canonblast with a thick shield of ice, using up a good half of her bending skin. "We're ouitclassed, outnumbered..."

"...Biut we have not lost."

She looked back at him as he held his stance, brow furrowed in determination. Much as she klnew he was right, doubt would not fully release the vice grip on her chest. Especially not when she was barely dodging fireblasts left and right, surrounded by the sounds of the resistance behind her being cut and burned down.

_Come on...how many balloons did you take down at Ba Sing Se? You can handle a few soldiers..._

Her eyes narrowed. There had to be something she could do to take out a good number very quickly.

She spread her fingers, sweeping her arms to pull the shield into a thin circle around her body, holding it there with feet spread and anchored, taking in the positions of everyone on her flanks. For a brief, tense second, nothing moved.

Her body suddenly twisted, and the ice shattered in answer.

Millions opf shards, a cloud of deadly needles so fine they sparkled like mist, raced across the battlefield. Cutting into the little exposed flesh that Fire Nation uniforms left uncovered, which just happened to be the hands. With a resounding chorus of cries and the clattering of metal on ground, each soldier dropped his weapon once his mind registered the pain and clutched his bleeding fingers.

The resistance fighters wasted not a moment, shouldering past the terrified and confused guard, headed straight for the gate. Katara followed, bringing her merciless arsenal with her to clear the way ahead. It was desperate, she knew, even as she added to the fray with every last drop of her bending skin. She'd be defenseless if it didn't work. Like the attack plan itself, this was her last shot. But it was better than nothing, and it would have to do.

She stopped short as her comrades ran on, staring down the main city guard for just a moment before sending the swarm of frozen needles at them.

It was no contest. The soldiers' shredded fingers dropped the weapons they held, grips slippery with blood and twitching in pain and minds too busy reeling to even bend for those that carried no steel. Her compatriots showed them no mercy, cutting each one down where he stood.

The sight tore her into sickly pieces. One part of her recoiled at the knowledge that she was directly aiding the deaths of hundreds The other part of her could only think of the hundreds left dead at her own village -- women and children no less -- cut down and left to die in the snow just for the crime of existing, and couldn't help but consider that each one of these bastards deserved it.

_They're just in the way..._

Perhaps Jet had a point after all. They were choosing to be in the way by fighting for the wrong side, and knew full well what they were getting into if they were any kind of soldiers at all.

_Didn't he have the same choice? What makes him worthy of your forgiveness but these men not?_

No, it wasn't the same. Zuko was a little misguided and not the sharpest sword on the rack, bit he wasn't the men who killed her mother.

_Neither are they. Maybe if you look past the helmets and weapons and bending..._

Tears stung her eyes as she redirected the deadly cloud. It mattered not how she sliced it. She was aiding the demise of young men no different from Zuko himself, for a cause she believed in. For a cause so many she knew and loved had died for.

_No man has ever made an omelette without breaking a few eggs_, Sokka told her once.

At the time, she'd countered that people weren't eggs. But as she watched them fall by the score at the hands of barely trained civilians, she couldn't help but rethink that assessment.

_Young men die for old men's benefit_, she thought. _It's the nature of war._

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The view from the watchtower was, in a word, unreal.

They looked like toys from this vantage point, swarming and clashing like so many ants, obscured only by clouds of dust and smoke, and the sparkling mist that seemed to disable every battallion it touched. But even that didn't hide the growing red stains that were starting to cover the ground proper. Dark and angry, falling like an unholy rain.

Mai couldn't help the clench in her fists, the sight of the carnage turning her stomach. Not that she was a stranger to violence or anything. But a quiet knife in the dark was a far cry from hacking a man's limbs off or burning the flesh from his bones, which was exactly what was going on down there.

They had busted through the gate, she knew. It was only a matter of time before they would be engaged inside by the city guard and surrounded by what was left of the gatekeepers. It was an easy win; the same way Omashu had been defending itself under her father's stewardship for months now.

She gave a sidelong glance to her left, where Azula also stood watching the fray. But the look on her face was very different. Her lips turned up in a pleased smile, brows drawn together as she surveyed the scene below.

"They're so cute, you know. Thinking they can win. We toppled Ba Sing Se, the greatest city in the history of the world, and they think they can wrest this place from us with an angry mob. I'd pity them if I didn't find it so funny."

Ty Lee swallowed thickly, her hands tightening on the stone sill of the window. "They're...not doing that bad, actually. You think they might--"

"Of course not," Azula cut her off. "Smaller forces tire faster, especially when they're the attackers. All we need to do is hold our ground until they drop."

"And...what if they don't?" Mai asked. "Even you say all the time to be prepared for the unexpected."

She snickered, her smile turning nastier if possible. "Even if they do manage through some miracle to take this city, they won't keep it for long. Not with the amount forces they'll lose in the process."

It was something about the way she said it that made Mai secretly wish their attackers _would_ win, though even she had a hard time pinpointing why. Even the overconfidence alone wasn't enough; she had her own moments of being arrogant and readily admitted it, at least to herself. No, it was more the idea that things happened a certain way because that was just how the world worked.

The same idea her parents had drilled into her head since she could talk. Shut up. Keep your head down. Do as your told. Marry who we say and bear him as many sons as he asks for. Keep your complaints to yourself and don't upset the cabbage cart and life will be easy. Boring as hell, but easy.

She turned back to watching the fray, and knew immediately why she wanted them to win. She wanted something, anything, to happen out of the ordinary. To surprise everyone and take that infernal cabbage cart for a detour. For someone to not do what they were told for once, just to see the result. Just to see something _different_ for a change.

"This is perfect," Azula purred. "If this city is kept out of rebel hands, we'll be rewarded handsomely for it. And I'll control operations here like I was always meant to."

Her hands clenched on the stone, nails scratching slowly and teeth catching her lip before she could say something inappropriate. It was that feeling she hated most. Of knowing what a bad idea it was, but wanting to express herself so badly that only physical pain could keep her tongue in check.

_If nothing ever happens on its own, why don't you make something happen?_

The thought had occurred to her innumerable times, but had always been squelched by her parents' reminders of what a good girl she was, and how she would lose the praise of everyone. After all, well-behaved women never made history. Not that they were supposed to.

"Like you control everything else?"

It slipped out before she could stop it. Azula snapped up at her, scowling. It was true what they said. She changed expressions faster than most people inhaled. "What do you mean by that?"

"Like you control everything else around you," Mai elaborated. "Including us."

Just uttering the words and seeing the disbelief written on both of her comtrades' faces, knowing that she was doing something neither of them expected of her, gave her a rush she could only describe as euphoric.

"Of course not," Azula stammered, though her hands shook. "You're my friends, why on earth would I--"

"Cut the crap," Mai snapped. "You're no friend of mine, and you never have been. Unless your idea of friendship really is that twisted." She readied one of her daggers, slipping it into her palm beneath a sleeve. "I'm sick of being your pawn and your servant and knowing every day that you don't actually care about anybody, only what they can do to benefit you."

Ty Lee gasped as Azula stepped back, feet spreading into her classic stance. "How dare you..."

"How dare I what?" Mai said, calm despite the adrenaline in her veins. "Call you out for what you are?"

Azula's eyes just about shook with rage. "Well, at least you've shown your true colors before you could really become a threat. I mean, two against one are pretty bad odds." She turned to Ty Lee, smiling wickedly. "Don't you think?"

The girl swallowed thickly, looking from one to the other before finally meeting Mai's eyes. She was terrified, as always. But behind that fear was a solid, though reluctant resolve that made her own heart wince painfully. She was alone, like always, and very likely going to die in the next ten seconds. But at least she would go out making something happen.

And then it happened. Ty Lee's hands struck like a viper, swift and furious, for Azula's shoulder. Fingers pointed in a way that Mai knew all too well. The other girl threw her open palm forward in a way Mai also knew too well, but unlike all the other times that fire would flow from her hand, not even a wisp of smoke appeared.

The shock on her face was almost comical as the situation registered, and she rounded on Ty Lee, looking like a mooselion about to charge full tilt.

"You're right," Ty Lee said calmly. "Those _are_ bad odds."

Azula closed her eyes, breathing out slowly. "Traitors," she growled, her voice starting low and menacing but rising quickly in pitch, volume, and something Mai could only describe as the sound of a door being torn off its hinges. "Why...am I surrounded...by _traitors!_"

Mai looked up at Ty Lee, smiling a wordless thank you before looking Azula right in the eye.

"Simple, really. You're a bitch and no one likes you."

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"_What?_"

Zha gulped, bowing low and trying as hard as he could to hide the way his knees shook and threatened to buckle. "They're approaching the city core, Sir. They entered through the sewer and took the flank guard completely by surprise."

Chiang's hand clenched the sill of the window as he turned to face the soldier. "You mean to tell me the attack on the gate was _their_ diversion?"

"That's...That's what it looks like, yes." His heart still pounded from running all the way back to the guard tower and taking the stairs two at a stride, calves burning. "It appears they're a cut above your average hunting dog."

"And why has no effort been made to stop them?"

"Because," Zha seethed, "I believe you told me to defend the _gate_ at all costs, not the city flanks. Shouldn't the guard be doing that?"

The general crossed the room in two strides, and the next thing Zha knew, the back of a bony hand slapped him to the floor. "Foolish, incompetent child. If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself."

Zha rolled to his knees, rubbing his bruised cheek and looking up just long enough to catch the swish of Chiang's robes as he left the room. Ordinarily, he would've been infuriated at being effectively relieved of command. But in looking down at the signet on his finger, glinting in the torchlight like a brand, he didn't find himself complaining one bit.

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The initial surge of good luck was swift and brutal, but short-lived. And the resistance fighters were discoivering this the hard way.

Katara's cloud of needles was only effective if concentrated on no more than seven men in a time, as the injury to their hands would be less severe and less potent if spread between more than that. And when they were facing a score at a time and she had to start splitting the cloud between needles to attack and a well-placed ice shield, things looked even more bleak.

If they could just hold out until their trump card made an appearance...but lord knew when that was actually coming. Or if their forces would even last until then.

Not for the first time did the thought that Jet might've been on to something when he called the entire plan suicide occurr to her. No, it resurfaced each time she saw a Fire Nation sword cleave through the flesh of her light-armored entourage. Before, it had been a swarm of brown and green tunics beating back the dark red armor. Noew that had reversed. The tunics were disappearing, lost in a sea of maroon.

She ignored the warm, sticky puddles of blood she keot stepping in, trying her best to stay focused on the task at hand. Namely staying alive, and helping those around her to do the same. This had to work, she reminded herself. The whole future of the war and the world depended on it. Failure here was not an option anymore. At least not one they could live with.

_But it's one you're probably going to die with_.

She could almost hear Jet's voice utter the line in her ear as a fighter barely his age fell to the ground under an infantryman's sword. They were dropping like the proverbial flies, the sound of screaming and clashing metal and gurgling blood and dying men filling her ears in a way she knew she would never forget the rest of her life. Too many times she'd heard the phrase "war is hell," but until now those words had been an empty truth. One of those things she knew was real but didn't know why. At least, not until she'd lived it herself.

And now, it was something she had to remember to tell her childfren if she lived long enough to have any.

At another time, she might've pleaded with her spirits for assistance. But not in a strange land so far from the ocean and in broad daylight. The only spirit she could see to implore was the exact opposite of the one that she believed aided her powers.

The necklace bobbed against her throat as she whipped around to deflect an incoming blast with her ice shield, and a shiver ran down her back. Her ocean and moon were far away. But if there was one spirit she always felt near, it was that one. Always close and protective, even if just to make her turn and see danger in enough time to avoid it. It sure as hell couldn't hurt. She looked up to the sky for just a moment, biting her lip.

_Mother...please... For the sake of the world, help us win this day_...

TO BE CONTINUED...


	9. Black Sun

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 9: Black Sun

* * *

Even if she died, Mai surmised, the look on Azula's face would be worth anything Hell could throw at her.

"Both of you are going to pay dearly for this..." she growled, striking an attack stance. Ty Lee's hands wasted no time in aiming a finger for her shoulder. Mai wanted to close in for an actual blow, but the way that arm went limp as overcooked cabbage made the idea seem less fun. Indeed, watching Azula stumble around helpless, the confusion and frustration written all over her normally cool and collected features was far more entertaining.

"And what are you going to make us pay with?" she quipped. "The combat training you've blown off the last ten years or so?"

Azula rushed her with a yell, launching her feet for a twirling kick. One that Mai easily caught, using her foot as leverage to toss her aside like a sack of grain. She hit the stone with a grunt and scrape, propping herself up on her working arm.

"That's really all you've got? With all the years you've spent being the crown jewel of the nation? I gotta say I'm pretty unimpressed."

Azula's scowl deepened. "You're only saying that because I can't fry you alive right now. Give me back my bending, and I dare you to repeat that to my face!"

Mai grinned at her, shaking her head. "Hell no. What kind of idiot do you take me for?" At her look of utter shock, she continued. "See, that's the fundamental difference between you and I. I'm not nearly that proud or stupid that I need to prove how strong I am by beating someone at their best. No, I'm going to kick your ass while you're down because as long as I beat you, I don't care how it's done. Only a moron chooses a fair fight over a guaranteed victory."

"You're a coward," Azula spat.

"Maybe. Doesn't change the fact that right now, I'm winning. And you're not."

Azula hauled herself to her feet, breathing heavily. "Fine. If both of you are determined to die today in the most painful way possible, I'll be more than glad to grant your wish."

Mai was about to retort when her former comrade's hand shot up to the door mechanism, yanking the chain. The heavy door swung shut with an almost funereal slam, the distinctive click of the lock falling closed making her stomach tighten.

Ty Lee finally broke the tense silence with a small, shaky venture. "Azula...?"

Her head was still bowed, her lips the only part of her face visible. They twisted like a scarlet serpent into a shadowy grin, her voice just barely hissing above the crackling torches. "There's just one little detail about fire that the world tends to forget. You don't need to bend it in order for it to be deadly. It's perfectly capable of destroying you all on its own."

In the blink of an eye, she pulled one of the torches from the wall, hurling it straight for Mai's head.

Mai ducked the flaming weapon as Ty Lee yelped and jumped away, looking up to see Azula still grinning despite having missed. She opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but thought better of it once she heard the noise behind her. And the smell. And felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle uncomfortably, in a way she remembered all too well. The same way it did at the fountain far too many years ago.

She turned around, dread turning her gut to ice.

The kindling, meant for the smoke signals, was engulfed in bright orange flames, the air in the small tower quickly filling with dark smoke as the signal hatch was still shut. The stuff stung her lungs, and she backed against the wall in a violent fit of coughing.

_Perhaps_, she thought, as she peered up over her arm at the still grinning Azula, barely visible through the the thickening smoke and ash, _I did make one small mistake. I underestimated just how much of a crazy bitch you are_...

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"Are they all engaged?" Aang asked. "The wall and city divisions?"

Toph nodded. "The only part of the city that isn't trying like hell to defend itself is the rear gate. And if our buddies keep up the good work, they won't be much of a contest, either."

Haru grinned. "So what exactly are we waiting for again?"

Aang turned, swallowing thickly and cracking his knuckles. "Nothing anymore. Come on."

They all followed him through the maze of statues as they stood at attention, a great stone phalanx of invincible soldiers. Each face set in a cold line. One by one they planted a foot backward, drew their arms back, and swept them forward with a great heave of force.

The statues responded. One foot, then the other, the ground trembling under them. They all moved as one with the benders' arms, a single unified march along the dirt path toward the city gate. The grinding of stone joints and the clank of weapons deafened everything else, including the faint din of the ongoing battle up ahead. Aang swallowed thickly as they pressed on, the doubts he'd been carrying all the way from Ba Sing Se surfacing with the force of a breaching whale.

They _had_ to win. There was, quite literally, no room for failure. Which meant he could not hold back the way he had been so far. None of them could.

He didn't even pause for breath once they reached the rear gate, turning and throwing his shoulder against it. The entire front line of stone soldiers responded in kind, and with a great whine of protest and a deafening clank of snapping chains, the portal gave in. He spread his arms, as did the rest of them, the soldiers themselves pushing it open.

Of course, the guard had heard them coming a mile away. Probably expecting a battering ram of some kind. But by the looks on their faces, this was the _last_ thing they counted on seeing.

Aang took a psyching breath, gathering the statues around him in a shielding formation as the men got over their shock and advanced. His arms flung in varying directions, and the statues swung their weapons in accordance. The sound of shrieks abruptly cut off by the crunch of shattered bones made his insides wince.

_It's war. You can't fight a war without killing people._

He heard the voice of his predecessor as clearly as if he were being spoken to, and the answering cry in his head.

_I shouldn't have to!_

_Nobody should. But you were born into unfortunate circumstances, and woke up to an even more unfair situation. That doesn't absolve you of responsibility_.

He felt his face contort and his eyes sting. No, it wasn't fair. But it just was, and he couldn't oput other lives on the line for the sake of that which he could not change.

_It's like the siege_, he told himself. _Those warships, and then men on them...they fell into the water. Whether they froze or drowned to death, they still died..._

Somehow, that didn't make the sounds of the men around him being gutted and thrown and hacked to pieces any easier to hear.

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"We don't have a whole lot of time left!" Smellerbee yelled, whipping her dagger around and narrowly missing a young soldier's jugular by a hairsbreadth. Her back was pressed to Jin's now, the guard division they were fighting having regrouped after cutting down most of their barely-trained civillian comrades. Her own cheeks were steaked with a vile mix of blood and dust. Some of it her own, most of it not. She tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in her gut that came with knowing she hadn't seen Longshot since the fighting started.

"I know," Jin said. "But once the sky goes dark we're pretty much home free."

"Except against the guys who are trying to chop the shit out of us. And there are way too many of those for my taste!"

It was true. The only flaw in Zuko's otherwise foolproof strategy was underestimating how the number of non-bending soldiers who were making mincemeat out of them with nothing but quality steel. They'd had the advantage of surprise, but like their element, the soldiers had gotten over their shock and raged with full force. Which a bunch of civillians who had flat-out ignored the war around them for years were absolutely no match against.

She swiped her dagger at another, catching him in the shoulder. A wound that might sting for a while, but wouldn't really slow him down much. And that was certainly evident as he pulled the weapon out and flung it right back at her.

She ducked with a wince, the weapon flying end over end above her head. An answering sound came after it, along with a tiny breeze ruffling her hair. A sound she knew all too well. She looked up, wide-eyed, to find the soldier who had attacked her frantically pulling an arrow out of his carotid, despite his eyes rolling back and his knees buckling as blood gished over the collar of his armor.

She turned around. And gasped.

Longshot stood, drawing hand empty, bow arm still rigid, chest heaving. And she saw why he hadn't moved yet. Her dagger that had narrowly missed her head was embedded in his shoulder halfway to the hilt, blood staining the sleeve of his tunic.

He raised his empty hand to tug the blade free, tossing it back to her. She caught it on pure reflex, watching in horror as he nocked another arrow, to carry on fighting as though nothing had happened. As though he didn't have a stream of blood running down his arm. He smiled at her. That silent, confident smile that even in the middle of a full-scale combat zone somehow managed to calm her down.

It would be all right.

And as he turned to his next target, ignoring the very obvious pain, she couldn't help but believe him.

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The smoke was nearly blinding, her lungs burning as she fought to find some breathable air. She'd dropped to her knees to escape the rising smoke, coughing violently at Azula's feet as the flames devoured the kindling all around them. The only door was snapped shut, as was the smoke shaft above. The thought crossed her mind that Azula would not be so stupid as to perish along with them.

_Well, she isn't. But she's certainly insane enough_.

The grin on her face only served to confirm it.

Mai turned, peering above her arm to see Ty Lee curled in a fetal position on the floor, unable to do anything but cough as the flames licked closer, and the sight made her stomach clench. They were running out of time and options, and she knew it. If only that stupid door could open...but not with Azula standing in front of the lever.

_Or if it just wasn't there._

It was heavy oak, she knew. But in a room full of fire, it was no less vulnerable than any other kindling. Oh sure, it was crazy and she was probably going to regret it. But not nearly as much she would great letting Azula roast her alive.

She took a painful, psyching breath, grabbing one of the sticks and shoving the burning end under the lip of the door. It took a few moments before the flames caught. But once they did, the unsealed wood just about erupted with them. Now all they had to do was wait it out as long as they could.

Mai tore a piece of fabric from her sleeve, wetting it with the small amount of water in the skin at her belt, tying it around her nose and mouth, then crawled back to where Ty Lee lay. She tore another for her friend, wetting and tying it securely around her face.

She stood up shakily, draping the girl's arm over her neck, glad for her light, tiny figure as she hefted her up to stand with her, fighting her way through the thickening smoke and grabbing one of the spare iron shields off the wall. Holding it in front of her with one arm, the other locked around Ty Lee's waist, she charged the burning door.

The weakened wood shattered easily, and the rush of fresh air on her sweat-drenched skin was an Arctic wind that chilled her down to the bone. She tossed away the hot shield, wanting nothing to get in the way of that cold, soothing breeze that made her lungs stop aching and her eyes stop stinging and her head stop pounding.

She gathered Ty Lee more securely against her, both of them shivering from the sudden change in the air, carrying her tight close as she ran. At this point, she didn't care where to, as long as it was cool and she could breathe.

It was only then that she became vaguely aware of the ash and soot streaking her clothes and hair, the bits of burned wood stuck to the folds of her dress, and the way her shoulder throbbed from when she thrown it and the shield against the door.

She was far too happy being alive to care.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Mother was not with her.

They were losing, much as she hated to admit it. The front guard had adapted rather well, no longer dropping like flies from her ice shard attack. Instead, they were doing what they should have done at the beginning and vaporizing the little killers left and right, forcing her to back to her whip attacks that she could control a lot easier. Only it wasn't nearly so efficient, leaving the fighting civilians at a clear disadvantage.

Plus, she was running out. Even her whip was getting chopped down by the man, until now she had a string-thin tendril. Not that it wasn't capable of slicing limbs clean off if she used it right, but knowing she was down to her literal last scrap of ammunition was just a tad disconcerting.

"Well, little lady. So we meet again."

She looked up, spinning away to dodge an impressive fireblast before it would've taken off her head. It took her barely a moment to to recognize the shaved topknot and severe face and neatly ornamented beard, but once she did her face contorted into a reflexive scowl.

The other four joined him in front of her, each one idly handling his weapon while Mongke held his blazing palm up menacingly. "Not so much to handle without your little tattooed friend, are you?"

She pulled what was left of her water in front of her defensively, eyeing the four of them and doing her best to assess which one was most likely to strike first. Not that it mattered much. Whichever one did, she was probably going to die regardless. Yet that thought didn't fazer her as much as she expected, as though it was simply the natural order of things. Something she found to be more disturbing than she cared to admit.

"C'mon, boys. She's a lady. We have to be easy on her, you know. Don't kill her too quickly."

"But of course," Ogodei smirked, deftly twirling his chain. "We'll be kind about it." He turned to Katara, chuckling. "What say you, little one? Ready for some fun?"

Her foot slid back into a more solid stance as he grinned wider, suddenly spurring his mount into a full-tilt charge. She was quick to dive away from the galloping rhino, but hadn't had time to judge the length of the chain, which she felt strike her like a serpent strike to the shoulder. She rolled with it onto her back with a yelp, in time to see Kahchi jump from his own steed, spear pointed directly for her heart. There was no time to move. Or to even think. Except to hope that it wouldn't hurt for very long. She shut her eyes, bracing herself for it.

The impact never came.

Instead, the clang of metal on metal rang above her, and she looked up to see the blade of the man's spear caught and held by a pair of crossed hooks. Her stomach tightened with the scrape of boots on stone behind her, the face of her defender finally coming into view.

"_You?!_"

Jet growled, holding his ground admirably against the force of the other man's grip. "You. _Run_."

"But--"

"I said _run!_ Get out of here now!"

She fought the pain in her shoulder, rolling out from under the pointy things and pulling herself to her feet. She swallowed thickly as Kahchi swung his spear around to catch Jet in the side, and the boy just barely blocked the blow with a deft swing of one of his blades.

"Don't argue with me! There's no time! Just go!"

She turned, squeezing her eyes shut against the stinging at the corners, tearing off across the cobbles. She had to find water. Even a puddle would be a big help. Or a washing basin, or a...

...A cistern.

Her heart leapt as she gathered a full stream into the skin her belt, and pulling out an extra wave of it for good measure, carrying it with her as she charged back to the clearing where she'd left Jet. He could hold out a few moments for her. He had to.

The water just about fell from her hands as she skidded to a halt.

They had him surrounded. Pinned to the masonry by three of Vachir's arrows. One through each wrist, the other one skewering his ankles. His face was already bloodied, a stream of bright crimson running down his cheek.

They were laughing as Ogodei swung the chain at his head yet again, and he reeled helplessly with the blow. Mongke himself clutched his stomach, still chuckling as he surveyed his subordinate's handiwork. He turned to Kahchi, grinning. "I think we've had enough with this one. Care to do the honors? You know, since he let that girl get away from you."

"Gladly," Kahchi grinned back, readying his spear. He marched up to the boy, raising the weapon and plunging it into his side.

Katara winced, ducking behind the wall and feeling her stomach clench at the sound of Jet gagging in reflex, of flesh tearing as the man wrenched his weapon free of the body. Only then did she peer around the stone through her fingers.

Blood splattered the ground at his feet, but the twitching in his limbs told her he was still alive. In horrible, horrible pain, but still alive. Her chest burned with a sudden anger that for the life of her she could not and didn't want to explain. Certainly not as she pulled half the water from her skin, fashioning it into a set of razor sharp ice blades and hurling them at the five men in her midst.

They turned at the sound of the whistling, Mongke raising his fist for a wide-berth fireblast that vaporized each of them to a fine steam. He grinned. "Back for more, are you?"

"You..." she growled, advancing slowly. "You...get...away...from him..."

"Oh come on, now," Mongke quipped. "We're only having a little fun with him. As many blows as he's taken, he probably doesn't even feel it."

She shook her head, charging past them to where Jet stood pinned and bleeding, turning abruptly and flinging the other half of her water in a wide, lightning-fast water whip that no man on that field saw coming before it knocked him to his feet with a chorus of surprised grunts.

She wasted no time, yanking the arrows out of Jet's flesh and pulling him down from the wall, half dragging him from the field as fast as she could bear his near deadweight. Until the sounds of battle faded in the distance, drowned out by the pounding of her head and heart.

She leaned against the wall of a small alcove, sliding down to her knees and laying him to sit against the stone while she oulled the tiny amount of water left in her skin out. Just barely enough to wrap around her hands. But she didn't need her bending to tell her the obvious.

"Stay still," she said shakily. "It's...It's bad..."

"I... I know... it's okay... you should go..." He looked at her calmly, despite blood sheeting his lower lip and chin and the unhealthy way his chest shuddered with every shallow, watery breath. "Go on..."

She shook her head, fighting down the rising tension in her voice. "You expect me to leave you behind like this?!"

He reached, up, setting a weak hand on her wrist. "Stop it... you're wasting your energy and you know it. Get out there and help the people who'll actually make it, okay?"

There was no point trying to keep her throat from tightening, turning her voice into a choked half-sob of panic. "Jet, you're dying! I can't just let you!" She held her hands over the glaring wound in his side, concentrating what she could of his energy into closing it. "You're going to make it. You're coming back..."

He gave a weak little yowl of pain, gripping her wrists with shaking fingers. "S-s-stop it! P-Please....just leave it alone..."

She drew back with a start, looking him over with tear-blurred vision. The way his face contorted in agony and his body arching in reflex. She shook her head with a whimper, finally just pulling him up against her with shaking arms, not caring about the blood getting all over the place. She used the water wrapped around one hand over the wound, focusing her skill into calming the pain rather than trying to heal. Deep down, she knew it. She could do nothing else for him. "I'm sorry..."

He raised a hand to her back comfortingly, laying his head on her shoulder as his eyes drifted to a half-closed, glassy gaze. "D-Don't be.... M'sorry I didn't come sooner. I... I couldn't find you..."

She cradled him close, tucking his head beneath her chin. "You weren't supposed to come at all. You were supposed to go sulk in the woods until the fight is over so I could come back and be mad at you again... You were supposed to still be a selfish coward, damn you!..."

He smiled a little, almost chuckling. "S'your fault...going and changing my mind like that... You were always good at that." He coughed again. A rough, watery sound. "M'not sorry... You're okay... They need you more than me..."

She shuddered at that, the words themselves lancing through her as painfully as that spear had pierced him. There had to be...

She reached into her supply pouch with a sudden flash of memory, pulling out the small phial of water, with the crescent moon crowning the top. "I...I still have this... It's water from the Spirit Oasis at the North Pole. It...may be enough to save you..." She bit her lip, trying to pop the stopper with her thumb.

He lifted his hand one more time, clapping his bloody fingers over hers and shaking his head. "Don't you dare.. You'll need it... For someone better..."

The corners of her eyes stung hotly as she clutched the phial, finally turning to look him in the eyes. "Please, Jet...I don't want you to die..." She felt her lips clench hard. "Why did you have to be crazy, too?... Why couldn't you leave me alone like I told you to?..."

His eyes slid closed, and it took him a few moments to struggle them open again. M'sorry... It's better, now...."

She whimpered hard, pressing her cheek to his temple and clutching his hands, which were already icy in her grip. "Please...Please don't go...Not like this!..."

He slid his cold fingers up to her cheek, and the longing in his eyes was unmistakeable. "Please...just promise one thing. That...That you won't give up. N-Not... Not without a fight..." The corners of his lips tugged up in a faint smile, the corners of his eyes glistening. "It's okay, now... I'll be all right, I promise..." A soft, rattling breath. "I lo--..."

He didn't finish it. His breath shuddered out of him, body sagging in her arms, hand starting to slip from her face. She pressed it there, cold as it was, and it actually took a few minutes to register his still, limp body in her shaking arms. For one of them she almost convinced herself that he was just sleeping, since he looked so peaceful. Still, and calm. She smoothed his hair from his face with trembling fingers, biting her lip as her shoulders hunched. Time had ended right there with his last breath, lost in a mental loop of the last words she threw at him back at camp. She shook all over as it finally started to sink in, and before she even knew what was happening, her entire body started to heave with faint cries, arms clutching him and burying her face in his still warm neck.

It seemed like ages before the sound of boots scraping on stone brought her back to reality. To a battle that was still going on. Especially when a dark shadow loomed over her, and the flat of a spear blade rested on her shoulder.

"Such a pity," Mongke's voice rang somewhere above her. "Seems you lot really are useless if you can't fight or heal. I mean, what good is a Waterbender when she has nothing left to throw at you?"

The shadow itself seemed to draw the warmth right out of her, leaving her with a chill as cold as Jet's hand on her cheek. Yet her shaking quickly ceased, the leader's words making..._something_...snap loose somewhere. Something neither dared nor wanted to describe. Her eyes flicked up from the dead boy's hair, surveying the freshly spilled blood pooled on the cobbles.

"Now then little one - are you going to come nice and quiet?"

She swallowed thickly, setting Jet's body down on the ground with a gentle reverence, almost as if he really were sleeping rather than dead, just looking at the ground.

The sky above their heads suddenly darkened ominously. But not with the deep purple thunderheads typical of monsoon season. No. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. It simply dimmed. Slowly. To a rich, nighttime blackness. As if someone had up and stolen the sun itself. The men looked up to the heavens with a startle, then back down to where she knelt before them.

Her arm suddenly flung out, high in the air, red-stained fingers grasping at the air.

The pool of blood at their feet followed her command, a thick tendril of it shooting up to Mongke's throat, wrapping around it and mirroring her unmistakeabkle grip.

The rest of them gasped in surprise, backing away slowly and watching in frozen horror as that tendril lifted him a good six inches off the ground. The silence was thick and oppressive as smoke.

Her hand squeezed the air hard, wrist wrenching to the side. The grip on Mongke's throat followed suit, snapping his neck with a resounding crack.

She relaxed her hand, and his body dropped to ground with a heavy slap. He did not move.

The rest of them gaped at her, incredulous, expressions all grotesque masks of unbelievable terror. She finally raised her head to meet their gazes, her own a mask of rage cold as the country from whence she came.

They didn't wait to find out what was to happen next, but turned and fled as she rose to her feet.

They knew it, in the deepest corner of what remained of their hearts, that they'd just upset something terrible.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	10. The Red Storm

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 10: The Red Storm

* * *

They had no idea where they were running to. All they knew in that moment was that they had to get out of her way.

A priority that was proving rather difficult to uphold as the sounds of her calm, slow footsteps behind them heralded the rush of whip-thin blades of crimson intent on skewering them alive. Kahchi barely managed to dodge one that would've run him through the heart, body rigid with a level of fear that before now he didn't think was actually possible for him to feel.

But it was only the beginning.

He heard the unmistakable sound of tearing flesh to his right. And felt something sticky and wet splatter across his cheek. All of his years of battle experience told him in one cold, terrified moment that this was _not_ a good sign.

The severed arm that flew across his path confirmed his suspicions. He screamed, ducking a scarlet blade and turning to see Vachir's body go staggering after it, eyes wide and jaw locked open, hand grasping helplessly at the bleeding stump of his shoulder.

Kahchi jumped back, watching in frozen horror as a large spike of crystalline red followed him, lancing through his side. He barely felt the man's blood splatter across his face, frozen for only a moment before tearing off across the cobbles with wild abandon.

None of the violence he'd inflicted on others, no way his spear had ever pierced human flesh, made him cringe inside and his veins fill with spring meltwater the way this did. And he couldn't put a sound finger on why. Whether it was the way his comrade screamed, or the sight of his limbs twitching as he writhed on the cobbles with the weapon still in him.

Her steps were gentle behind his furiously pounding ones. Calculated and cold and purposeful, like the beating of a devil's heart under the floorboards. A constant reminder that she was there and he had to run faster and oh god they were all going to die.

A set of faster steps gained ground to his right, and he looked to see Ogodei coming up beside him, face bearing an expression of utter horror he'd never in a million years thought the man was capable of making. And a minute later, he saw why.

A thin, crimson strand trailed behind him, toward the demon woman whose face he dared not look back to, the other end looped round the man's neck and across his chest before joining the rest of it. The strand itself was no thicker than a bow string, leaving small nicks on the man's skin with how fast the liquid flowed to maintain such a precise shape. An overwhelming sickness boiled in Kahchi's stomach as he realized the intent.

His fears confirmed a moment later when Ogodei screamed, body wrenching violently as he stopped dead in his tracks. Pulled back only for a moment by the red garotte before his neck and chest exploded in a scarlet fountain.

It didn't hit him immediately. No, the blood had to settle first, had to stop splashing across the cobbles. The the body itself had to pitch forward and land in the growing pool with a sickening wet splat and the head to go rolling into his path before the gravity of what just happened finally sunk in. And even then, it took his comrade's disembodied face staring up at him with hollow eyes and a locked open jaw before he jumped back as though it might attack him.

And still, they sounded behind him. Those light, soft footsteps scraping over the stone. The only sound to puncture the heavy silence other than his quick breathing.

She was getting closer.

Again, he ran. Where to, he had no idea. Only that it had to be away from here and quickly. Not that it mattered. He could hardly see for the inky blackness around him, only enough to dodge the dark puddles as his body took over for his non-functioning brain. In a small, protected part of his mind, this wasn't actually happening. He was watching passively as this horrific scene unfolded, while the man who represented him merely reacted in the most human manner possible.

He gasped as his foot struck something slick and wet, legs skidding out from under him and the ground tilting up to meet his face with unforgiving impact. The pain didn't even register before the coppery taste in his mouth, mind running on little more than fear and adrenaline.

_Scrape._

_Scrape._

_Scrape._

_Scrape_.

He rolled onto his back at the sound of those steps inching closer behind him, heart pounding a full day's march in the space of a minute and his chest clenching on itself like a bellows.

She advanced slowly, one foot in front of the other, face not even visible in the darkness of the stolen sun. Her arms hung at her sides, shoulders drawn back, hands flexing as she walked steadily toward him. What had been a slight, harmless teenager weeping for a lost friend only moments ago was now a menacing figure colder even than her Antarctic home.

He shook, frozen in place with a fear he'd never imagined he could feel. Acutely aware of his own mortality in one painful, terrifying moment.

She lowered into stance as she approached, the dark liquid around him following the sweep of her arms and flattening itself into a translucent blade that hovered between his body and her hands.

"Please..." he heard himself gasp, his voice a tight, tiny whimper he didn't even recognize. "I'm sorry... Please don't..."

All sound around him seemed to vanish into a black void as she stared him down, fingers flexing, blade dancing on the end of its tendril like a snake charmer's flute.

It was the last he heard before the world went black.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It was endless. Or at least it seemed that way. But then when they were outnumbered somewhere between six and ten to one, he expected it to feel like were going to keep coming at him until he fell. And while he knew the eclipse was keeping the Firebenders in check, it didn't do a whole lot against the melee fighters who didn't need fire to be effective.

At his side, he heard the rhythmic swings of Sokka hacking apart the oncoming soldiers, and not once did he need the prince's aid to keep his limbs attached.

Admirable, Zuko thought. In some small part of his mind, he was proud to have taught his friend and comrade the art of staying alive on the battlefield. But he barely had time to reflect on it before he had to dodge another blow and cut his assailant down in the same move.

"There are too damn many of 'em!" Sokka shouted, ducking under a whistling blade and swinging low for the man's side. "They won't...stop...coming!..."

"I know," Zuko grunted. "Believe me, I know. Just hold your ground and don't worry about advancing just yet. We can do it..."

He was about to take another swing when the three opponents in front of him went flying to his right, courtesy of a dark whip of liquid that struck out of the shadows like a shirshu's tail. Some of it flicked against his face, stinging with the force behind it. Confused, he took the momentary lapse in fighting to touch his cheek. He could tell just by feel that it was too sticky to be water.

It was hard to tell the color in the dim nighttime gloom, but as he rubbed it between his fingers, the texture sent a hard shiver down his spine. He brought it to his nose, and his stomach did a sickening flip in answer. He knew that smell anywhere.

He looked up, and for the first time in a very long time, his body went rigid with fear.

She stalked toward the fray like something born straight out of his nightmares, that same dark liquid dripping from her hands and clothes and hair, faceless in the shadows and moving with a cold, calculated grace that belied the chaos surrounding her as the black liquid at her feet whipped into a raging maelstrom. And with it, the soldiers unfortunate enough to be in her way.

"Oh God..." he breathed, feeling his heart start to pound. "Katara, no..."

"The hell?" Sokka stood up beside him, wiping a smear off his face. "What are you ta-- Oh my God..."

Zuko turned, pushing Sokka down the street, the two of them ducking behind a wall past stray black wave packing enough force to liquify them both. As it was, he heard the crunch of bone as those less fortunate were caught in its grip, and the tumble of stone as it smashed down part of the wall.

"What the holy flying mother of Hell..." Sokka gasped, leaning against the wall for support and heaving dangerously. Zuko dropped to one knee beside him, trying to keep his knees steady at the sounds of screaming and dying and tearing flesh and more dying. He rested a hand on Sokka's back, silent permission for him to give in to his body's need. And the boy wasn't about to turn it down.

He shivered as he looked up to see more men taking refuge in their alcove, Fire Nation soldier and rebel alike, all with blanched faces and wide eyes and shaking limbs, voices struck dumb as they huddled against the safety of the wall. Zuko gulped, unable to help the tremor in his own hands, or the wince at the sound of one of his former countrymen starting to sob quietly behind him.

_It's true_, he thought. _It really is the great equalizer_...

He patted Sokka's back in reassurance, before venturing a look out to the battlefield again. She had passed them, leaving the casualties strewn over the cobbles. Some twitching, most of the bodies intact but not all, lying every which way in foul black pools. For only a moment, his gut instinct entertained the thought of stopping her.

_With what, exactly?_

He had a hard time arguing with that one. Or the fact that they were severely outnumbered and outclassed, and she was quite possibly doing them the most good by indiscriminately decimating everything in a Fire Nation uniform. And because of that, an even bigger part of him did not want to go anywhere near her. He swallowed thickly, feeling like a sick opportunist but unable to deny that a one-woman rampage was likely the only chance they had of winning the day.

_Of winning the war_, he reminded himself, the pressure from even the night before weighing anew on his already straining heart. He shivered as he came back to Sokka's side, his own arms shaking even as he tried to keep calm for the sake of those around him.

_Heaven help us all_...

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Iroh led them through the streets, one step ahead of the raging carnage at their backs. They followed him without thinking, desperate to get out of the way. Desperate to stay alive. Desperate to find a place where they could wait until the screaming and dying stopped and it was safe to come out without getting crushed or stabbed or torn limb from literal limb. But the deeper they went into the city core, the closer the quarters became and the harder it was to avoid the deadly whips and blades.

Smellerbee ducked behind the wall, sinking to her knees as Longshot closed in beside her, shielding her instinctively with his body though there was nothing to protect her from anymore now that they had a wall between them and the demon stalking the killing field.

"It's okay," he told her, pressing her tightly into the wall and covering her eyes. "It's going to be okay..."

"What the hell is going on out there?" Shen's voice murmured somewhere in the darkness above her.

"Someone," Iroh said, "just made the grave mistake of angering a powerful Bender of the world's most dangerous element."

Smellerbee shook her head, her insides clenching as a particularly loud scream rang out across the battlefield. "Please," she whimpered, covering her head with her hands. "Make it stop... Make her stop..."

Longshot turned her around, pulling her close to hide her face in his shoulder. A silent repetition of his words in a voice she didn't need to hear in order to understand. The scrape of boots across stone and the chatter of frightened voices signaled the arrival of more refugees, and she could do naught but listen as they clamored quietly about her, as if scared of being discovered.

"She's a demon..."

"Devil-woman..."

"A whole score...gone, just like that oh God..."

"Stay down, she won't find us back here. We can escape when she's through..."

"She'll never be through until all of us are dead!..."

The words made her wince, and she opened her eyes to peer over Longshot's shoulder at the men huddled in the alcove near Iroh, shaking just like she was, frightened tears glistening in their eyes.

_You know there's a huge difference between attacking a military base and destroying a civillian village, right?_

_They're both people. How big can the difference be?_

A shudder wracked her spine, making her teeth clench. If only he could see this, living proof of how right he was. Fire Nation soldier and Earth Kingdom civillian hiding like scared rats from a wolf-leopard. Both brought down to the same level by the most universal of fears.

She closed her eyes again, unable to watch anymore, burying her face in Longshot's warmth and scent and heartbeat and waiting for it to all be over.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"No..."

He barely had the time to register what was happening before a lone soldier flew past him, shoved by the force of a crushing whip. He shielded his face with an arm, trying not to give in to the churn of his stomach as the cold, sticky liquid splashed him.

"Katara, no..."

She didn't even look the same. Not the good, strong warrior he knew and learned from, respected and loved. No, this was a creature risen straight from the depths of Hell itself, drenched in the pain and agony of every soldier on the field, stalking and hunting without mercy even as those still living ran for their lives.

She didn't even seek them out, really. Just sent wave and blade and whip after them as she saw them, using the blood spilled from each new kill to fuel her power like a well-oiled machine. Unfeeling, uncaring, simply killing because they were _there_.

He winced as she sent two soldiers flying into a wall, crushing a third who had just managed to escape her wrath moments before. He felt his chest heave, shouting as loud as he could in the vain hope that somehow, some way he'd be able to reach out to the friend he knew was still in that body of hers.

"Katara, _stop!_"

She didn't hear him, following the panicked crowd down into a wide cul-de-sac framed by high stone walls, arms sweeping and gathering the spilled blood left in her wake into a growing, menacing wave.

The men crammed into the passage, too late finding it a very literal dead end, turning to face her in panic. Some stood rigid with fear, others brandishing weapons in their wavering grips even as their legs trembled uselessly, and still others threw their armaments on the ground and fell to their knees, unable to articulate a plea for life with anything but a soft whimper.

She stared them down, blood drenched hair hanging in her face, a veritable liquid wall roiling behind her for a few tense seconds that found Aang himself holding his breath.

She stepped forward, shoving her hands in turn, palms out. The wave obeyed, parting around her only to meet up in front of her in one solid, crushing blow that drowned out their frightened screams in one fell moment.

He couldn't let it go on any longer.

Fighting the sickness in his stomach, he slogged through the ankle-deep lake until he stood a respectable distance, popping open his glider and mustering the largest breath he could without gagging on the stench. With a mighty heave, he loosed it straight for her, using the glider's larger fins to strengthen it.

She reeled with the blow, skidding and falling onto all fours in the sticky pool with a stunned gasp. But it didn't last as she started to pull herself once again to her feet, turning and sweeping her arm in preparation for another strike.

It all seemed to happen at once. Sokka's quick figure dashed from the safety of a stone wall, arms clamping down on hers, holding them to her sides so she couldn't bend as he shouted in her ear.

"Katara, stop it! Stop for a minute and look what you're doing! I don't want to hurt you, but I will if it's the only way you'll stop! Please, for the love of God _don't make me!_"

As though on cue from a higher command, the deep nighttime darkness began to lighten, revealing the dark red lake they stood in. She stopped struggling in his hold, looking around her as though for the first time. At the street littered with bodies and various severed parts, the blood covering her feet and splattered against the walls, the few surviving soldiers barely alive amongst their broken and twisted comrades. And lastly, the blood drying on her hands and face and in her hair, running down her clothes and body in laced streams, just the stench of it overpowering.

Her eyes widened in a way that Aang knew, in a way he expected his friend to react to such horror and carnage. Sokka seemed to sense it as well, that it was safe to let her move. His arms dropped from around her as the others slowly crept into the light, raising her bloodied fingers to cover her mouth.

Her knees buckled, folding to the ground as her eyes scrunched shut, the deafening silence pierced only by her anguished shriek ringing out across the battlefield.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	11. Aftermath

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 11: Aftermath

* * *

Twilight fell upon them like a blanket, warm and dark and strangely comforting despite the lingering smell of blood in the air. The part of the city that hadn't experienced the wrath of battle had been turned into something of a makeshift camp for those lucky enough to survive. Though in Zuko's mind, how lucky the survivors actually were was debateable.

He pulled on a fresh tunic after bathing for a good hour to get the bloodstains out of his hair and the smell off his skin, going over to the fire where Sokka sat cleaning his sword.

"Hey."

The boy looked up, swallowing thickly for a moment before turning back to his work. "Hey."

Zuko dropped to knees that hadn't really stopped shaking since his first glimpse of the bloodbath. "So...it's over. We won."

Sokka nodded. "The enemy survivors are in custody. Some of them. The ones who are too afraid to go back to the Fire Nation."

His brow arched. "Are they defecting?"

"Not really. Not yet." He ran a polishing cloth along the length of the blade, which reflected the glow of the fire with unusual clarity. "They're just scared. They'll be punished if they return. Kinda feel like they have nowhere to go."

Zuko sighed, looking away with a sympathetic twinge. "Yeah. I...I kinda know how they feel." He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the look on Sokka's face when he answered the next question. "How's Katara?"

Sokka's hand paused on the blade, and he let out a shuddery breath. "She hasn't said anything since the battle ended. I bathed her and got her clean, but she's like...she doesn't know where she is. She won't recognize me, or anyone else. All she does is sit there and stare into space..."

He felt his insides shudder at the thought, wincing his eyes shut for a moment. "...Where is she?"

"In her tent. Aang's watching her. She's..." He sighed. "I won't kid you. She's pretty out of it. Won't even acknowledge I'm there."

Zuko felt his insides clench painfully at that. "God. She...I...I'm sorry."

Sokka shook his head. "Zuko, it's not your fault. It never will be."

He swallowed thickly. "I know." Not that such knowledge did anything to alleviate the guilt burning through his chest. He stared into the fire for a long moment, a long shiver running down his back at the memory of her anguished cry once they brought her back to her senses. The way Sokka had to walk her away from the scene while she staggered on unsteady feet, eyes wide with absolute horror and body movements rigid and jerky like those of a marionette.

He winced hard, unfolding his legs and rising to his feet. "I'm going to see her."

Sokka nodded, sighing. "Yeah. Aang's been with her since he took over for me. Poor kid needs a break to eat and bathe, at least."

Zuko noded in agreement, giving him a friendly squeeze on the shoulder before turning toward Katara's tent. He took a psyching breath before ducking through the entrance flap, cold dread tightening his gut.

He didn't even see her at first, only Aang sitting within the lantern's glow, looking forlorn as he stared at the tent floor.

Zuko swallowed thickly, gathering his nerve and voice. "A-Aang?"

He looked up, startled, before his face melted back into a frown. "She's...not doing so great." He sighed, averting his eyes. "She won't say a word. She won't _do_ anything. She just sits there and stares off at nothing, like her mind isn't even here. I just...I know she's in there somewhere, but I have no clue how to get her to come back..."

Zuko felt his chest tighten at every word as he knelt in front of the boy, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Aang...we'll do it, ok? We'll get her back. She just...she needs time. She's in shock from what happened out there."

He nodded. "I know. I just want her to be okay again..."

"She will be." He forced a weak smile for the boy's benefit, looking around the tent to see where Katara herself actually was. The lantern was turned down pretty low, giving them only a small circle of light that faded into the corners of the tent.

Finally his eyes adjusted to the dim light and he followed Aang's worried gaze to the dwelling's dark far corner. She sat curled up against the cloth wall, still and silent as though Toph had bended her out of the ground itself. Her hair was still damp, laying about her neck and shoulders as the lantern's glow reflected in her eyes.

But the look on her face made his stomach clench as if The Boulder had punched him in the gut.

Blank and empty, staring through him rather than at him, the blinking of her eyes the only sign she was even alive. He approached as though she were a sleeping dragon he was afraid of waking, dropping to one knee in front of her and reaching a tentative hand out to brush the hair from her face. "Katara?"

She flinched as though he'd struck her, backing away in a sudden flash of movement. Trembling and swallowing thickly, arms wrapped tight around her bent knees. He cursed inwardly. "Katara, it's ok. It's all right. Nobody's going to hurt you..."

She shook her head, backing away from his hand. He sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly, trying to find the right words and reminding himself that even shooting in the dark was bound to hit something eventually. "It's over," he said. "The battle's over. You're safe, now. Everyone else is safe, too. Please, all I want to do is get you warm and dry so you don't catch cold..."

She stilled after a few moments. Not looking at him, but not shaking, either and her arms loosened their vice grip as she looked back into the heart of the lantern's flame. He gave it a few moments to make sure she'd actually calmed down before carefully venturing to sit at her side. She didn't flinch this time, but let him in, his arm circling her shoulders.

He let out the breath he didn't know or care that he was holding, chest falling in relief and limbs shuddering in exhaustion. He tucked her in close against him, as though afraid she might vanish if he didn't hold on tight enough. She leaned into that embrace, but otherwise made no move, her eyes as blank as a pair of dead stars. His own slid closed, and he buried his nose in her hair. "I'm sorry," he heard himself murmur. "I'm sorry..."

Time passed in a way he could only describe as numbingly painful, measured in the space between their breathing and pulses. Hers calm, his racing, soothed only by the light breeze blowing in from the flap of the tent.

The torture finally ended in a soft rustle from the corner that made his eyes snap open, barely in time to see Aang shuffle out into the night.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

For the fifth time that night, Shen walked up to the nondescript tent, took a psyching breath, and willed himself to enter. And again, for the fifth time that night, his feet refused to move.

Why this was such a nigh impossible thing to do, he couldn't really fathom. Perhaps because he'd planned on being long dead before he ever had to face this man. Perhaps because he'd never planned on revealing this secret even if he did chance to see him. As he'd told Lao, some things were better taken to the grave. But that was before things became far more complicated.

Before he realized he shared more in common with this man than he ever thought possible.

He asked himself so many times as he'd sat by the fire in the underground tunnels, what he would want if the tables were turned. And every time, the answer was the same. Until now. He closed his eyes, willing himself to do this. He had to. For his own conscience as much as this man's peace of mind. He stepped forward, ducking into the tent and willing his legs to stop shaking.

Iroh sat by the fire, sipping at a cup of what smelled like peach blossom tea, looking up at Shen's entrance. He nodded in acknowledgement, sweeping an arm to invite him inside. "Good Evening."

Shen returned the greeting in a blur of anxious reflex, taking a seat across from him. "Yes. I...I was coming by to give you the latest report." He swallowed thickly. "And...I suppose just to talk."

"I see," Iroh said, setting the tea down. "You look like you've had much on your mind since I saw you in the tunnels."

"I...I have, yes." He felt his chest tighten a bit, and forced himself to let out another breath. "The dead are still being counted and taken care of. We've seized the armory under the Avatar's direction, and we're treating the wounded as best we can..." He caught himself as he started to ramble nervously, trying to stop himself from speaking at the speed of his thoughts.

Iroh sighed, looking concernedly up at him. "Shen...you don't need a cover story just to speak to me. If all you wanted to do was talk, then say so. What's the matter?"

He forced himself to keep breathing, locking his hands together so they wouldn't shake so much. He couldn't do this, no matter how much he wanted to. "It's...It's nothing. I'm sorry for bothering you."

Iroh's brows narrowed in that way that made it clear he would not be dissuaded easily, if at all. "If it's nothing, why do you look as though you want to run screaming from me as far as you can?"

Shen shivered, the words tumbling out before he could even think about stopping them. "I'm sorry... I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, so I'm not asking for it. But I just...I can't keep this from you any longer."

Iroh arched a brow, going for the teapot to pour Shen a cup, handing it to him with one hand and resting the other on his shoulder. "Shen, please. Calm down first. There's no sense making yourself too upset to think straight."

He let out a shaky breath under that hand, sipping the tea and trying to stay the panic clenching his chest. After a moment, Iroh ventured first, as if knowing that it was easier to answer a question than start a confession. "What is this secret you're talking about?"

Shen put the tea down, closing his eyes for a moment. "What...What was the last that you heard of Lu Ten?"

Iroh blinked, startled for a moment before regaining himself with a somewhat sad smile. He paused a moment, closing his eyes, before turning to his small bag of belongings. He searched for a few moments, before pulling out a simple wooden scroll case. He opened it, pulling out and unraveling a small bamboo scroll.

"This. It was his last letter to me while his division was en route to Ba Sing Se." He sighed, fingering the edge of the paper. "'Don't worry so much, Papa,' he'd said. He told me it would be all right. That we would see each other soon." He closed his eyes. "I didn't know why I felt...compelled to save it then. I only realized it two weeks later, when his name was added to the Scrolls of the Dead."

Shen swallowed thickly, staring into his tea as if it were the abyss of Hell itself. "Do you...know how he fell?"

"Not exactly how, no. Only that he fell in battle." He looked up at him pointedly, no longer smiling. "I suppose that's what you're here to tell me?"

Shen looked up with a gasp, unable to hide the horror on his face for a moment before averting his gaze. "I...yes. I know it's been years and the wound is hardly fresh, but..." He sighed. "I don't...I don't know how exactly he perished, either. But I know the one responsible."

Iroh sat silent for a moment, picking up his own tea to sip. "...So do I."

Shen nearly choked, looking up at him in disbelief. "You...you knew all this time?"

Iroh nodded. "Zhu told me many years ago, when you were first initiated."

Shen swallowed again, lowering his head and clenching his hands around the teacup to stop them from shaking so badly. "There is nothing, absolutely nothing I can do to make it up to you. I've taken something from you that can never be returned, and I deserve no mercy from you. I just...I don't know what to say anymore, other than that I'm not proud of it and I wish I could take it all back..."

Iroh set down the tea again. "Shen...it was not all your doing. You didn't give the order."

"But I carried it out," he countered. "Knowing full well what was going on."

"And knowing full well the consequences of refusing." He looked up at him, serious and pointed as the tip of a well-crafted _jian_. "There were other lives at stake besides my son's. If you had gone against the order for him to die in battle, the families of every man under your command would have been ordered killed. Lu Ten...he would _never_ have wanted such a thing. He would have rather died than had so many civillians killed just because of him. As for me...burying a child is the worst pain any parent will ever experience. I, for one, could never wish it on someone else. Certainly not on a band of troops merely caught in the crossblades of Fire Nation politics."

Shen swallowed hard, allowing the shiver to roll down his spine and the heat sting his eyes as Iroh continued.

"Vengeance blackens the soul, Shen. There is nothing to be solved in avenging one death with another. There is even less to be accomplished in holding a grudge against a man who, at the end of the day, did the best he thought he could. What you did was not right, but it doesn't make you a bad person. Your hand was forced, and you were given a choice that nobody in this world should ever have to make."

He smiled a little, and Shen felt a warm, aged hand clasp his own. "Please, forgive yourself. Everyone else has. Even him."

Shen squeezed his hand, looking up at him for a minute, then back down at the ground. His vision swam, and he blinked hard until he felt something warm and wet and small roll down his face and fall onto Iroh's hand.

It was the oddest feeling that he could only describe as crushing relief. An overwhelming sense of liberation and unburdening, as though he'd been carrying a ten-ton rock up a steep hill, and only after he reached the top could he throw the cursed thing back down the way it came and watch it bounce and crash down the embankment behind him in a million pieces.

For now, at least, it was done. This most dreaded of moments was over, and he could rest at last.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Zuko sighed as he approached the large tent that had been erected as a makeshift infirmary until Omashu's actual one could be made useable. Most of the wounded were Fire Nation troops, too shell-shocked and frightened to go back to their own people for treatment, and like hell was a ragtag group of rebels who had won by the sheer dumb luck of the enemy angering the most dangerous person among them going to turn them away.

He'd left Katara with Suki after finally getting her to close her eyes and lie down at least, even if she didn't sleep. As much as he wanted to stay with her, being leader by default demanded his attention be elsewhere. He pushed the flap aside and stepped in, looking up with a start at the pair of huddled figures in the corner.

He didn't recognize her at first. Likely because her hair had come out of its ox-horns and now hung loose and unadorned down her back, the rest of her disheveled and singed at the edges.

He blinked, rubbing his eyes for a moment to make sure he wasn't seeing things. "..._Mai?_"

She snapped up, equally startled, before recognizing him with a thick swallow and turning back to the second figure, who lay huddled in bed. "...Fancy meeting you here."

He crossed the room in what felt like two steps. "Likewise. What the hell happened? You look..." He pursed his lips, trying to come up with the most non-offensive but descriptive word he could muster. "...Crispy."

She arched an eyebrow at the comment, but was either too rattled or weary to bother chastising him for it. "It happens when you narrowly escape being made into human _jiaozi_." At his even more confused expression, she sighed. "I'm sick of your sister's bullshit. I told her so. She didn't take it very well."

He blinked, raising both brows. "...Obviously." He shuffled his feet, coming close enough to finally see who the figure buried under the blankets was, and couldn't help the slight hitch in his heart. "Oh my god...is she all right?"

Mai nodded, using a damp cloth to wipe the soot and grime off Ty Lee's forehead as she slept on oblivious. "She will be. Breathed in some smoke, but she'll be okay after a little rest." She bit her lip, hand pausing in its motion.

He reached over, covering that hand with his own. "It's ok if you're worried, you know."

Her eyes closed, and she jerked away from his touch as though from a bad static shock. "Please. Don't start."

He blinked. "Mai?"

She let out an exasperated sigh. "It's not what you think. At least not yet. I don't know. I just want her to get well and talk to me before we figure out which side we're standing on."

Zuko looked at her, voice as blank and flat as her own classic deadpan. "You're kidding, right? You really think you can go back after making my sister angry enough to fry you both? That bridge is gone. Unless you plan to jump into the chasm behind you, you'd best stay on the side that's going to keep you alive."

She scowled. In the way that clearly meant she hated it when he had a point. "I'm sure you have business elsewhere, Zuko."

Mai-speak, he decided, was so much easier to translate when she was pissed off. "I do," he said, turning on his heel and giving a sharp glance over his shoulder. "But I _will_ be back."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Zha accepted the tea and rations despite not being hungry in the slightest, bringing the tray to the small table by his bed. For the fifth time that evening, he sat on the mattress and dropped his head between his knees in an effort not to faint, breathing hard and shaking. It had taken most of the day to finally hit him. But when it did, it had all the force of an artillery shell behind it.

His father was alive.

His father was alive and had never sent a single word to him as such in almost twenty years.

His father was alive and had never sent a single word to him as such in almost twenty years because his father was also a traitor.

Not the hero his aunt had told him about all his life, but a traitor.

_A traitor to what, exactly? It's not like you really believe this crap anyway_.

But he still fought for his own country, which is more than this guy had done. He might not agree with it, but he served the purpose still. Because there was a war to fight, he was called, and he went.

_That still makes you a traitor. Just not to your country._

He brought his head up, resting his chin on his hands. Quite possibly the soldier's oldest conundrum. It wasn't right. Or sane. But it was all he had left.

He looked down at the signet on his finger, gold glinting like the whitest of flames in the moonlight that spilled in from the window. The one his aunt had given him, to hold until his father came back from the war. The one he'd taken into battle as one of those superstitious charms he professed he never believed in, that his father's spirit might protect him. Never knowing that the man's spirit was, in fact, still inside a body and could protect him no better than a good suit of armor.

But then, he _had_ survived as a wall guardsman for five years, so maybe it wasn't a complete crock.

It still did nothing to erase the sick feeling in his stomach. That he'd had a father out there for almost twenty years who couldn't be bothered to even send him word that he was even alive. Not that Zha would've wanted him to considering what he knew now.

But it still hurt. Like no other feeling he'd ever experienced.

He looked over at the far wall, where a large oval mirror hung. A mirror that, for the most part, he never used, though for the life him he had no idea why he found his own reflection unnerving. In some ways, he felt, it was bad luck for a soldier to ever look upon his true reflection. Most who did would run screaming for the hills anyway.

But he did just that, now, staring himself in the face and at the same time trying not to flinch. High forehead, short face etched with far more lines than any youth's should be. Light brown hair pulled up in a tight, uncompromising topknot. Deep-set amber eyes and a somewhat permanent frown that, along with the deep lines, made him look older than his true age would dictate he should.

It was the eyes that he couldn't stop looking at. A different color, but the same shape -- narrow and almost femininely delicate -- as the man his mind had been ranting about all day.

_Deny it all you want. You'll always be a part of that._

_No!_

_Yes. And he'll always be a part of you. Anyone who dares to look upon you will see it._

"_No!_"

The shock of panicked denial that went through him seemed to give his body a life of its own. In a flash of movement he rose from the bed, yanking the ring off his finger and hurling it at his reflection.

The sound shattered the quiet night around him as he watched the tiny shards explode onto the floor at his feet, glittering in the moonlight. Each one now reflecting that same face he'd just tried to destroy. A million sets of accusing eyes trained on him instead of just one. His hands shook, the tremor spreading to every limb, melting his knees until he folded to the ground, covering his face so he wouldn't have to look anymore.

But more so that they couldn't see his tears.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Princess? Your visitor is here."

She snapped up from her place at the window, scowling. "Who is it? If I didn't send for him, then he isn't welcome."

"I...I believe you did, Your Highness. It's General Chiang."

She relaxed slightly, letting out a breath. "Let him in."

The messenger obeyed, allowing the man over the threshold with the same trepidation he did for anyone, despite her permission.

She heard the officer's quiet steps as he came up next to her, backed by the clicking of the lock. "Good Evening, my lady."

She pursed her lips, continuing to stare out the window. "I'm not sure how good you could call this evening. We lost today. I in more ways than one."

"Perhaps," he said. "Most unfortunate luck. But rest assured, these rebels will not keep their hands on Omashu for long."

She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "That depends. They might have an insider's advantage now."

He smiled. She felt it. "Are you referring to the Traitorous Ladies? Worry not. Their treachery was to be expected. I'm sure even you knew that."

"In a way. I just didn't expect it so _soon_."

She felt a slender hand rest on her bare shoulder, fingering the strap of her gown. His touch was warm, in a tempering way. Soothing. "If there is one lesson to be learned, it's that friends are a waste of time and a liability. The truly great men and women of the world have none, and purposely keep it that way."

A light caress to her shoulder. One that made her shiver despite its warmth. "Loved ones can betray you, Your Highness. Tools can't."

She leaned into that touch, murmuring without even realizing she was speaking. "A good point, General."

"You are far too great of woman to have needed them, Your Highness. You have better."

She nodded, eyes glazing over slightly. "Then I suppose there is only one thing left to do about it."

"And what is that?"

She turned to him as his hand slid to the middle of her back, a tiny, cruel smile tugging her lips. "You know the rules, General. What _else_ would we do with traitors?"

TO BE CONTINUED...


	12. The River

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 12: The River

* * *

Aang sighed as he stared into the fire, wrapped in a towel at the waist after having taken a long bath. As much to calm his nerves as to get himself clean. A cup of warmly spiced oolong tea rested in his hands, and he sipped at it absently.

Once again, the image he'd walked out on resurfaced in his mind. Katara blankly staring into the lantern flame, resting against Zuko's chest with her head tucked under his chin. His fingers smoothing and drying her hair with gentle strokes through it. Firelight glistening in her eyes like it might across the surface of a still lake as she snuggled into that protective embrace.

He shivered, taking a long sip of tea, only looking up when hea heard the scrape and rustle beyond the fire. Iroh settled down cross-legged, pouring himself a cup of the tea as well. "So it begins."

He nodded, sighing loudly. "I know. I just...don't know what to do now. We have Omashu, we have a capital to conquer...and it just seems so big." He swallowed thickly. "I feel like we're in over our heads."

Iroh sipped his own tea before looking up at him. "In a way, we are. We lost a significant number of our forces, and we didn't have a very large number to start with. But we're not defeated, quite the contrary. The fact we took Omashu despite such heavy losses is a turning point." He smiled wanly. "Word has already been sent out to the Northern Water Tribe to strike an alliance."

"The more the merrier I guess. Of course, none of it's going to matter much if I can't bring Ozai down." He frowned. "I'm...I'm going to have to kill him, aren't I?"

Iroh set his tea down, folding his hands. "My brother is not the kind of enemy who can be simply subdued. No leader is, simply by virtue of being a leader."

Aang cocked his head. "What makes you say that?"

"Say for example...you were somehow incapacitated and taken prisoner. Locked away for the rest of your life. What do you imagine Katara and Sokka, Toph and Zuko would do? Pledge themselves to the service of those who imprisoned you?"

Aang made a face. "Of course not. They'd try to bust me out."

Iroh nodded. "Precisely. What makes my brother dangerous, what makes _any_ leader dangerous, is not his own power but the fealty of his supporters. If he is alive, there are many in the Fire Nation who, like your friends, would do everything they could to rescue him.

"Even if he's killed, those loyal to him may still rally behind his memory. But that can only sustain them for so long. Like fire without fuel, they will eventually burn out and accept a new order. But while the one they have pledged themselves to still lives, they will feed off his inspiration and the promise to regain what was taken from them."

Aang sighed. "So...I really do have to kill him."

"Somebody must," Iroh answered. "Perhaps not by your hand, but he must die, yes."

"The monks always told me that killing people and even animals is wrong. That killing causes suffering..."

Iroh nodded. "They're right. At its root, murder is a cause of suffering, even moreso for people than for animals because the death causes family and friends to suffer far longer than the victim himself. But life has no rulebook, Avatar. Nothing is ever definite, and nothing is ever permanent. What the monks follow are guidelines, not laws. Yes, there is a degree of consequence in not adhering to them, but unlike laws which are rigid and break if not followed, guidelines can bend. In this case, killing one man to prevent the murder and suffering of millions of other people is something the monks themselves would have thought more than justified."

"But if the goal of a monk is to end suffering, then why is the Avatar spirit constantly reincarnated?"

Iroh took another sip of tea. "Because unlike your average monk, the Avatar does not have the option of detaching himself from the world. If he could, his role would be meaningless. You can't effectively protect a world that you have no stake in."

"It's...the Avatar's job to suffer?"

Iroh nodded. "In a way, yes. In order to protect the balance of the world, the Avatar must understand the suffering of its people. And the only way to really do that is to suffer himself. It is why he's given a mortal form at all." At his heavy sigh, he continued. "But he's meant to understand happiness as well. And love and joy, as well as anger and sadness...everything that the people he's supposed to counsel and mediate feel. He must understand human nature, the good and bad parts, if he's to advise anyone and be seen as credible."

Aang looked up at him, curious. "How do you know so much about this? About the Avatar and the monks and stuff? I mean, you were a Fire Nation prince..."

Iroh laughed. "A long time ago. Or at least it feels that way." He smiled wanly, looking into the fire. "After the failed siege of Ba Sing Se, and more importantly the death of my son, I was desperate for answers. I not only sought the Spirit World itself, but the only place that I was sure the knowledge of such matters might have been salvaged."

Aang tapped his chin, thinking. Knowledge... "The Library? As in Won Shi Tong? You went there, too?"

Iroh nodded. "Among other places." He finished the last of his tea, setting the cup down. "The Air Nomads themselves gave many of their writings to the Library to preserve their culture before the Fire Nation attacked. In hopes that the lost Avatar himself would return, and be able to learn what they had no time to teach him."

Aang felt his chest shudder painfully. "More like what he ran away to avoid learning..."

Iroh shook his head. "You can't dwell so much on the past, Avatar Aang. What matters now is the present. Yes, you made a mistake when you ran away. But this is your chance to correct that, and you mustn't waste it."

Aang nodded, finishing his own tea. "Yeah..."

He smiled again. "If there is one thing I took away from war, Avatar, it's this: take everything one day at a time. If you look too far down the road, you'll be overwhelmed before you even take the first step. Right now, we need to repair Omashu enough to use it as a base for our allies to come. After that, we can worry about the capitol."

Aang smiled, letting out a relaxing breath. "Thanks," he said, then turned thoughtful. "...Now I know why Zuko said he'd never get by without you."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The only thing Ty Lee could be sure of in that uncertain moment between sleeping and awake was that her head hurt like hell.

It wasn't the sharp pain that she knew from clocking her head on the practice bar. It was more like a dull, crushing pain that felt like her head accounted for most of her body weight. She groaned softly, trying to process the million sensations trying to break their way through the agony at once. A soft sheet and feather mattress under her back. A warm, wet cloth covering her forehead. Another sheet covering her to the top of her chest. Which it took her a minute to realize was the _only_ thing covering her.

A hard, violent cough siezed her suddenly, forcing her to sit up as her eyes snapped open and the cloth fell from her forehead into her lap. A pair of warm hands settled on her, one at her back and the other on her shoulder to steady her.

"Take it easy," a familiar voice said next to her. "Your lungs are still weak."

She shivered, looking up toward the speaker when she was able, straining to see since her vision was still blurry. The voice was certainly right, but the female figure next to her was different. Missing something. It took her an embarrassingly long moment to figure out that her companion's hair was down completely.

"Mai?"

She nodded. "Welcome back to the land of the living. Or what's left of it."

Ty Lee groaned softly, clasping the coverlet to her chest and murmuring under her breath. "I...What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

"We were arguing with Azula, I think..." She shook her head. "It's all fuzzy."

Mai froened, nodding. "You got part of it right. What you don't remember is her trying to burn us alive in the guard tower. Likely because you were passed out."

Ty Lee snapped up at her, feeling her chest tighten and not from her damaged lungs. "She...She what?"

"You know her. She always thinks she can win an argument by throwing fire at it." She sighed, averting her eyes for a moment. "I got us out of there. I couldn't let her have her way again."

Ty Lee blinked. "U-Us? You mean...you got me out, too?"

Mai looked back at her, surprised. "You stood up to her, too, finally. You risked your neck to side with me. You _really_ think I would leave you behind to die?"

_You do what you want. I can't tell you that. Go on and stay with her and save your skin if you like. Just stay the hell out of my way._

Ty Lee looked back at the blankets with a thick swallow, not wanting to answer. Though whether it was because she didn't want to insult Mai or that she was ashamed of having so little faith in her friend, she couldn't be sure. The warm hand settling on her shoulder didn't really help.

"Ty Lee..."

"You said that--"

"I...I know," Mai cut her off, sounding cold on the outset, but she knew better. "I say a lot of stupid, cruel things when I'm stressed or pissed off and don't think. It's...not always true that I _mean_ them."

Ty Lee shivered, hunching her shoulders a bit and trying desperately to ignore that flutter in her chest because now was _not_ the time to hope for complicated things that she'd told herself were impossible long ago. "You...You didn't have to, and you shouldn't have. I'm a ditz and I'm spineless and I bring everybody down and--"

Mai shook her shoulder firmly. "No. You're not. You never were, no matter what that bitch tried to make you believe." She felt those long, slender fingers take her gently by the chin, turning her so that she faced her friend. Look at her now, she couldn't help a hard, somewhat frightened gulp.

"Out of the three of us? You were the only one who dared to do what you wanted with your life instead of what everyone expected of you. You sought your own happiness, and you were doing fantastic until Azula stepped back into the picture. If that's not a spine, then paint me pink and call me a tulip."

She felt her eyes sting. Mai was never the type to compliment anybody unless it was proper decorum, at least as far as she had observed. And even then, she did so grudgingly "...Mai?"

Her lips curved in the faintest of smiles. She didn't say a word. Didn't have to.

Perhaps it was a result of a narrow escape from death, or simply the shock of receiving genuine words of praise from her friend unprompted by the need to keep up appearances. Whatever the reason, whatever the spur of impulsive courage, Ty Lee threw her caution to the wind. Leaning over and throwing her arms around Mai's neck and burying her face the soulder of her robe, not even caring as the blanket fell to her waist, baring her chest as she snuggled in close.

Though she felt the initial startle, she also felt Mai return the embrace, if awkwardly, one arm across her naked back and the other pressing on the back of her head, pulling her in securely.

"It's all right," she heard Mai murmur against her hair. "We'll be okay."

Ty Lee didn't doubt her.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It was true what the rest of the fighters said. Even when in horrible, horrible amounts of pain, Longshot was uncompromisingly silent. Smellerbee winced as she pulled the soaked bandages from his shoulder, taming her gag reflex as she always did when examining large, blood-crusted open wounds. "It...It looks bettr. I guess. I mean, you're not bleeding like a stuck pig anymore..."

Longshot grunted slightly, but otherwise made no move, pointedly looking away from the wound himself.

She bit her lip, going for the medicinal wash to flush the wound with. Finding it, she poured it gently over the gash, catching the runoff in a small clay basin. He sucked in a breath, scrunching his eyes shut, but didn't move otherwise. She smiled slightly, unable to help thinking something about being a trooper.

But that smile faded as she looked across the way, a couple of beds down, watching as the attendants covered the face of an unconscious young woman with sheet, undoubtedly stained with her own blood. She closed her eyes, willing back the roiling in the pit of her stomach.

"Where is Jet?"

She gasped, shaken out of her stillness by the simple, muted question. It took her a mortifying three seconds to realize Longshot had spoken.

It was such a simple request, and yet she could not find the words to answer him once she remembered what he was asking. The thought of watching her fellow soldiers bear his body away, no doubt to be burned on the pyre they had erected in the middle of the square for all of the dead, rebel and Fire Nation alike. She blotted the wound gently, letting out a slow breath.

"He...He didn't make it."

It was Longshot's turn to freeze perfectly still as she started to dress his shoulder in fresh bandages. Even with his silence, or perhaps because of it, she'd gotten used to reading his emotions in other ways. The tension in his shoulders and face, the slight tremor in his hands when he was nervous, and by contrast their rocksteadiness when he was confident and focused. But in all the years she'd known him, she'd never seen him this way.

He was tense under her hands, still as death save for his breathing. But it wasn't the erratic, hitching kind that she normally associated with him being frightened or angry. It smooth and regular, with the slightest of tremors on the exhale. And even the rigidity in the rest of his body seemed to wax and wane with the rise and fall of his chest.

"Longshot?"

He made no move to indicate he even heard her. She leaned down to get a better look at his face, and felt her heart shudder in her chest. His eyes were closed, lips pressed together hard, jaw clenched. An expression she knew all too well, but one she never thought she'd be seeing on _him_.

She swallowed thickly, finishing with the bandages and sitting on the bed's edge to face him. Without warning or preamble, she reached out, pulling him in close though mindful of the dressing. He let out that tight breath, though she knew even now he wouldn't allow himself the luxury of tears.

"I know," she heard herself say. "...I"m sorry."

He nodded in acknowledgement, though he said nothing else. But like so many of their conversations, he didn't have to.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

_The battlefield rolled out before her like a foreboding red carpet. Indeed, the ground itself was drenched in an ankle-deep crimson river, bodies like small swamp hammocks dotting the surface. Brick walls rose on either side, channeling the field as she trudged through the sticky liquid covering her bare feet, soaking into the hem of her clothing. Even the smell was enough to make her want retch. The heavy, coppery scent of death so thick she could taste it._

_In sharp contrast, the sky was a pale purple, the color it always turned just before dusk or dawn. And near the horizon, she could make out a dark figure dancing across the river's surface. She squinted to get a better look, slogging forward._

_It was a girl, slender and shapely, hair and clothes flowing behind her as danced through the blood with an ease and grace as if she belonged there. Her movements themselves were smooth and fluid, viscous as the liquid at her feet, which barely made a splash when she landed. As though she was weightless._

_She wanted to call out to her, but found she had no voice. At least, not one that she could hear. But her lone companion apparently could, for she turned to her, stopping her dance in a dramatic, beckoning pose._

_She gasped, her stomach clenching hard as she found herself staring into her own face. But upon it was the most hideous expression. Brows narrowed with intent. Lips curved in a serpentine smile. Eyes glinting with a vicious, unholy glee. As though to augment the already disturbing vision, the nightmarish doppleganger's clothes and hair were matted with dark blood, dry and fresh, dripping from her sleeves and fingers._

_She stepped back, bowing her head and extending her arms out to her sides, palms up, raising them to the purple sky. In answer, the shallow river of blood began to ripple and come alive, the still bodies in it moving and shuffling to their feet. Turning their heads with the sickening sound of cracking bone and squishing flesh, all of them staring at her._

_They began to shamble toward her in a uniform, menacing gait as she backed away in horror, hands clapping over her mouth. Wanting to scream but the sounds were trapped in her tightened throat. As the army of bloodied corpses began to close the gap, she got better looks at their faces. And the recognition punched her in the gut and made her stomach lurch like ship in a maelstrom._

_Jet stood at the head of them, face blank of expression, punctures clearly visible in his wrists. Zuko behind him, hand out toward her, scar hardly noticeable as blood covered most of his face. Sokka to his right, sword drawn and dragging through the river as he moved. Aang and Toph behind them, shuffling jerkily in step with the others, the latter's eyes nothing but empty sockets._

_"I"m sorry," she whimpered to them. "...I'm sorry... Please, don't..."_

_"No mercy," she heard them chant. "No mercy for the demon. No mercy..."_

_She stumbled backward in her effort to get away, tripping and falling onto her side in the shallow river. The continued to advance, chanting their mantra as she struggled to get back to her feet..._

Katara bolted awake with a strangled shriek dying in her throat, gasping for breath and staring in wide-eyed terror, taking in her surroundings that were not those of her dream and trying to make sense of where she was.

It was her tent, she finally realized. Her bedroll. The camp at Omashu.

She swallowed thickly, running a hand through her hair before bringing it back down to the blanket covering her lap. One of those same hands that had caused so much destruction. That had taken so many lives without even batting a lash.

No mercy for the demon, indeed.

She rose to her knees, pushing the small window flap of her tent open. Enough to see the moon. It was full tonight, bright and clear, illuminating the camp as though it were noon instead. She looked back at her hands, her palms looking so red in the contrasting light. For an instant, she imagined they were still dripping with the blood of those she'd felled.

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. No.

_No mercy for the demon_.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I'm so sorry."

_No. No mercy._

"Stop it..."

_No mercy for the demon._

She shook her head to clear the mantra, covering her face with her hands.

There would be no mercy tonight. Or any night.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

His dreams were dark tonight. Not terrifying, but not really discernable, either. But then, he was never the type to dream much after witnessing something truly horrific. It was as though his mind simply shut down while he slept. Not that he was complaining, since it was far better that way.

But tonight did hold some activity more than normal, at least. It wasn't long into the chilly hours between midnight and dawn that he felt a pair of cold, strong hands on his shoulders, shaking him roughly. The sensation jolted him aware and awake, though his eyes had yet to open.

It came again. That chilled, icy touch and frantic shaking. Like someone trying to get his attention. He knew he was awake now, that it was no dream. With a great effort, he struggled his eyes open to see who on earth was disturbing him at such an ungodly hour.

The shaking stopped as soon as he did. His tent was empty.

He blinked, rubbing his eyes and looking around. "H--...Hello?"

Silence. Crushing, deafening silence.

It may not have been verbal, but he felt something of an answer stire in his chest and gut. An overwhelming sense of the deepest dread he'd ever felt, strong enough to bring a wave of nausea crashing over him. He clutched his stomach, willing back a heave.

_Katara. I need to check on her._

He didn't even know why. Only that it was something of an irresistable compulsion.

He threw on his clothes, ducking out of his tent and into the still of the night.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It was still dark and quiet when Zuko found himself woken, out of an admittedly light sleep, by a pair of desperate, trembling hands shaking him from behind and an equally frightened voice in his ear.

"Zuko! Zuko, wake up! You have to help me!"

He whipped around, almost knocking heads with Sokka. "The hell? What's wrong?"

"It's...It's Katara," he stammered. "She's gone..."

He was alert in an instant, an icy cold finger of dread creeping across his gut. "What do you mean gone?"

"She's not in her bedroll," he said. "She's missing!"

Zuko sat up, hand to his forehead. "Don't freak out yet, she could've just...gone to the bushes or something..." Though he felt more like he was trying to convince himself as much as his comrade.

Sokka shook his head. "No. There's something wrong. Something really, really wrong. Don't ask me how I know, I can just feel it..."

Zuko sighed. "All right. Let's take your word for it and go look for her." He couldn't explain it, but he did feel somewhat calmer at taking Sokka's suggestion. As though it were the definitive right thing to do. He scrambled out of his bedroll, throaing on a pair of pants and a cloak, not bothering with a shirt for the moment. He followed Sokka to the city's rear gate, frowning. "How are you sure she went this way?"

"I'm...I'm not," he replied. "I don't know, I can't explain it. But it's like...it's like I _know_ she came this way..."

The thought made Zuko rather uncomfortable, all told, as he recalled his uncle's words about the Spirit World and dreams. As far as he knew, Sokka was the least attuned to this kind of thing. But having nothing else to go on, he merely followed.

It wasn't long before they reached the edge of the rocky slope that led down to the source of the River Qingsheng. Named for the unpredictable current that waxed and waned with the seasons. It was especially bad in early Spring, when heavy rains combined with snowmelt from the previous Winter to swell the river dangerously. He shivered, getting the same bad feeling that Sokka was no doubt having.

His companion scanned down the embankment, squinting to see through the strange colors of night, despite the moon's brightness. Suddenly, he started to climb down the slope, mindful of the rocks, until he reached one in particular. A large one with a sharp, dorsal edge that looked distinctly like a shark's fin.

Zuko swallowed hard, no able to see what interested his friend. The sharpest part of the rock was stained with something dark, which Sokka reached down to touch as he knelt beside it. He rubbed it between his fingers, a visible shudder going down his spine. It wasn't hard to figure out what the substance was. And as he looked further, he noticed a distinct trail of it, in small prints along the rocks, the sight of which made him even more uneasy.

"God..." he murmured. "Where the hell could she have gone with her feet all cut up like that?"

Sokka stood up again, biting his lip. "No idea. But there's only one way we're going to find out." He started to follow the trail, taking care himself not to trip and fall on the stones. Zuko fell in behind him, picking his way along the path. It wasn't much longer before the sound of running water met his ears. Far off in the distance, and from the sound of it the current wasn't a gentle one.

The rock-littered bank descended into a dense cross between a forest and a jungle, and the angle of the slope softened considerably. Sokka reached the landing first, pushing off the wall of earth and venturing toward the sound of the river, where the trail, though less visible now in the soil, was leading. He gulped as he saw her clothes heaped on a large boulder at the riverbank, knowing in his bones that this was not going to end well.

Sokka suddenly sprang forward with a shout. "Katara!"

Zuko followed him, and felt his breath catch in horror.

She stood out in the middle of the current, naked and waist-deep and shivering, arms crossed over her chest and fingers nearly clawed on her shoulders with cold. The full moon made her look ghostly pale despite her bronze skin as she stared downriver, the wind tossing her hair about behind her.

Sokka stumbled into the shallows, calling her name, only to be cut off from going further by the main current. Zuko followed suit, already going in as far as he could before the tug of the icy water made his feet unsteady. She flinched ahead of them as they shouted to her, as though their voices struck her physically, burying her face in her hands for a moment before looking up again.

"_Katara!_" Sokka yelled, cupping his fingers around his mouth. "Come back! You're going to freeze!"

She shook harder, from what Zuko guessed was a mixture of cold and fear that made his stomach knot up like a sailor's rope. And with each shout of beckoning from Sokka, it became clearer that she wasn't going to be persuaded so easily. He looked up and around them, noting the tough-looking vines hanging from most of the trees. Forming a quick plan, he slogged back to the bank, going to the nearest tree and cutting a length of vine free with a precision burn. He heaped his cloak on another rock, handing one end of the vine to Sokka.

"Hold this," he said. "I'm going in after her."

"But you'll--"

"I can manage," he said. "If we don't get her out, she'll eventually lose her footing and drown, provided she doesn't freeze to death before that."

Sokka nodded, though reluctant, planting his feet firmly and holding the lifeline in a secure grip. "Be careful," he said. "_Please_."

Zuko nodded, tying his end of the vine diagonal around his chest with a secure hitch-knot. Sucking in a deep breath, he channeled as much heat as he could into his hands and feet, and began to wade into the raging current.

It took all of his willpower to remain steady, and a couple of steps he nearly lost his footing on. The water was like swirling ice around his legs, and he bit his lip to give himself something to concentrate on and on shiver so much, breathing deep to maintain his temperature.

"K-Katara!" he called, trying to control the tremor in his voice.

She whipped around, so fast that she almost tripped, but righted herself quickly. She crossed her arms tighter, hands covering her mouth and eyes glassy in way that made his chest want to crush in on itself. He held his hand out to her, trembling from the icy cold water. "K-Katara...please... T-Take my hand, let me help you..."

She shook her head backing away from him, a tear spilling over her cheek. He ventured closer, extending his hand just a bit more. "It's okay," he said. "I'm not going t-to hurt you. It's all right... Please... Just c-come back to shore with me, okay? Everybody's waiting for you... S-Sokka...A-Aang...T-Toph... They need you t-to come back..."

She was crying now, trying to back further away but too scared to move, the look on her face making his chest tighten harder. He cursed inwardly, finally deciding that now was not the time for caution. "Please... Please, Katara, just take my hand. Come back..." He fought the crack in his voice at the very thought, looking her right in the eye. "...I don't want to lose you like this. I _can't_ lose you like this..."

She paused there in the water, and time itself seemed to stop around them, measured only in the pounding of his heart in his ears as he awaited her answer. He opened his hand wider, channeling more warmth to his palm as he met her gaze for what could have been years for all he knew or cared.

One of her hands ventured forward, toward him, drawn by the heat. Hesitant, flinching back, but reaching out again. A little closer each time. Relief trickled down his spine, and he smiled softly. "That's it... Come on, just a little further. It's okay, just take it..."

She bit her lip, giving one more look downriver before turning back to him. His heart thundered so hard he felt the pulse in his head.

Her features hardened despite the fear in them, and her hand shot forward to grab his.

He squeezed tight with his fingers, pulling her in close against his chest and wrapping his arm securely around her, turning to shout at Sokka on shore to start pulling. With a steady, mighty heaving on his part, he brought them to shore, grabbing Zuko's cloak to wrap her in as Zuko gathered her into his arms now that he didn't need one hand for the vine. Sokka untied it from around him, leaving it on the bank as they both made their way back to camp.

It passed by in a blur of reprieve, his legs shaking as he found himself back in front of the fire, dropping to the ground before it and pulling her into a warm, secure embrace while Sokka fetched some dry clothes, towels, and blankets from his tent. Zuko barely had the mind to go into the safety of the brush to dry off and change, coming back to the fire and laying his drenched pants on a rock to dry.

He reclaimed his place next to her as Sokka clutched her close, smoothing her hair and shaking. No doubt realizing just as Zuko did just how close of a call it was. He took in a deep breath to bend himself warm, gently pressing her between them. Sokka looked up at him, met his eyes, in the most heartfelt, wordless thanks he'd ever been given. Gently, he shifted his sister fully into Zuko's arms, where she buried her face in his bare shoulder, muffling her quiet cries.

Even the relief of having her safe and alive, did little to quell the twinge that sound gave him. He nuzzled her, running his fingers through it, trying to calm her with gentle words and touches. "It's ok..." he said. "Shhh, it's all right. I'm here. I'm right here, you're safe now. Everything's all right..."

He let out a shuddering breath, burying his face in her hair, feeling as though he could never in his life say it enough times. "I'm sorry..."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	13. Hakoda

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 13: Hakoda

* * *

It was many hours later, not quite approaching dawn, that Zuko felt it safe to take Katara back to her own tent, but not quite safe enough to leave her there unattended. Sokka took the honors of getting her changed into warm, dry clothes -- even if those clothes happened to be an extra red and gold tunic and breeches of Zuko's that Iroh had somehow managed to salvage from their supplies back in Ba Sing Se. Zuko simply didn't ask anymore. It was less disturbing that way.

He came back to the darkened tent, bearing a bowl of warm sweet potato congee each for him and Sokka, just as the boy finished tucking Katara, now sound asleep, back into her bedroll. His eyes lit up, taking the bowl from Zuko's hand. "Thanks."

Zuko nodded in acknowledgement. "You're welcome. It isn't much, it's not even meat, but..."

"It's food," Sokka said, starting to sip from the bowl. "I'm not about to complain."

Zuko found himself sitting down with a weak smile at the familiar humor, starting to sip his own. "You should probably go rest. I can keep an eye on her."

"No, it's all right I ca--" a deep, wide yawn cut him off, and Zuko couldn't help the chuckle.

"It's ok, Sokka. Really, I can handle it."

"I...I know." There was a strange look in the boy's eyes, a kind of misty, far-off gaze that Zuko knew usually meant the person was off and lost in thought. He ventured a hand to his shoulder, concerned.

"Sokka?"

He shook his head. "It's...It's ok. Nevermind." He pushed himself to his feet, picking up his breakfast. "Wake me up in a bit, ok?"

Zuko nodded, concerned but deciding not to push it. "Ok. Sleep well..." He sighed as Sokka left, turning back to his tea, then looking over at Katara curled up beneath the blanket, sound asleep finally. He reached a shaky hand out to stroke her hair, fingertips brushing her cheek in the process, the contact making his pulse quicken slightly.

"Prince Zuko?"

He jerked up with a startled gasp, but relaxed immediately at knowing who it was. "Ah!... Good morning, Uncle."

Iroh stepped in, tea in hand as usual, sitting down and handing him a cup which he took gratefully. "What happened last night? You and Sokka both look exhausted."

He swallowed hard, averting his eyes. No matter how much he wanted to invent a cover story, he knew it was impossible for him to lie convincingly to the man. "Katara wandered too far into the river. We...had to pull her out."

"I see," Iroh frowned. "Is she all right?"

He only nodded, not trusting himself to speak. It was half a lie, he knew. Physically she was fine, if a little cold.

If Iroh suspected anything, he was letting it slide. "I'm hoping the news I have will cheer you up a bit, then." He smiled. "Word has been sent to the Northern Water Tribe. They're already en route."

Zuko felt some of the tension in his chest melt away. "That...That does make me feel better. Thank you, Uncle." He sipped his tea gratefully, turning back to Katara as she shifted beneath her blankets and tucking them back around her, sparing a hand to lightly pet her hair down her back until she settled again.

"You've been here a long while," Iroh observed, no longer grinning, but an intent glint in his eye that made Zuko distinctly uneasy.

He tried to will the rising blood down from his cheeks. "I just sent Sokka to go take a rest. After last night I don't...I don't want to leave her here alone."

"You were also awake most of the night. You should go rest as well. I'm sure Toph wouldn't mind giving you a break, or even the Avatar. Neither would I."

"You should conserve energy for yourselves," he said, licking his dry lips. "I'm fine. Really."

"Prince Zuko... Why are you so reluctant to leave her side?"

"I promised her brother I would keep an eye on her," he said, still refusing to look at him, finding it much easier to keep his gaze trained on Katara's sleeping face.

"Is that the only reason?"

He closed his eyes. "Uncle, don't. It's not like that."

"Prince Zuko--"

"She's a friend, okay? I'm worried about her. Can't I be worried about my friends? She...that wasn't her out there, that's not who she is. She could've killed us all, or hurt herself, or... God, I don't know what I would've done if...if..."

He hadn't even registered how close to her he was leaning, or that his hand had ventured out to brush her hair from her face, brow creased in worry and words just pouring out of him like a river flooding its banks.

He bit his lip as his voice trailed off, backing away from her and folding his hands carefully to stop their fidgeting. His heart pounded wildly as he stared at her, swallowing hard and trying to ignore the feeling of Iroh's eyes boring into him. A long moment of silent torture passed, before Iroh finally ventured.

"...Nephew?"

Zuko let out the breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding in a hard, solid rush. "...Please, Uncle. Let it be."

Even Iroh, it seemed, knew when it was best not to meddle. "As you wish, Prince Zuko."

* * *

A long few hours later found Sokka awake, sitting on a rock near camp and poking at a cup of hot tea. It wasn't quite afternoon yet, and he'd gotten the news about the Norther Water Tribe from a very relieved Shen. But he knew even with those allies on their side, there was something else more pressing that he had to find a solution to.

"Hey... You certainly look a million miles north of here."

He snapped up to see Lao approach him, taking a seat across. Sokka nodded, sighing. "Just...thinking. Strategy stuff."

Lao's brow arched. "Oh?"

"Yeah." He swirled the warm liquid around in the cup. "I checked out the armory Aang mentioned. Found some stuff that looks useful. But...there's something I've wanted to ask for a while, though I'm not sure I wanna know the answer."

Lao shrugged. "Shoot, kid."

"What...exactly _is_ blasting jelly? I mean, if you know, that is."

The man laughed. "You, dear boy, could not have found a more qualified soldier to answer that." At Sokka's confusion, he went on. "When this platoon was still serving, I was the guy responsible for detonating most of the explosives. As for blasting jelly, it's a pretty simple concept. You know about black powder, right?"

Sokka nodded.

"Well...the way the Earth Kingdom went about making the stuff when it was first developed for blast mining was they ground each component up separately, then mixed them together. The Fire Nation adapted the technology, but tweaked with it like they always do. Instead of grinding everything up separate, they tried to grind it all together to save time.

"Unfortunately, what they didn't realize was that the reason the Earth Kingdom engineers separated the components was to make sure that any sparks produced by the millstones wouldn't cause an accidental detonation."

Sokka winced. "I can guess how that idea went."

Lao chuckled. "Smart boy. But, being the stubborn guys they were, they tried to solve the spark problem rather than just doing it the safe way. At first, they wet the ingredients so that any sparks produced wouldn't be able to ignite. But this was counter-productive because then the finished powder had to be dried out before it could be used.

"Finally, they found a solution: coating the runner stone surface in hard pine resin. While still solid enough to let the pressure of the stone do its job, the resin softened the impact between the stones so that they wouldn't spark. As a result of the friction, the resin melted onto the powder, creating a jelly-like substance. But unlike water, pine resin is flammable, which means the explosive could be used immediately."

"I see," Sokka mused, stroking his chin. "And...what if the resin dries out?"

"That won't happen if the barrel is properly sealed. But...dried out blasting jelly is largely seen as useless, because the flammable compounds in the resin are thought to be evaporated."

"So nobody's actually tried to detonate it before?"

Lao scoffed. "Nobody wants to, unless there's a really big target they want utterly blown to hell. If it dries out? It's the whole barrel or nothing." He suddenly looked at him, suspicious. "Why do you ask? Or do I not wanna know?"

"Mmm. There's a rather large store of blasting jelly in that armory. Unfortunately, the barrels weren't sealed right or something and it's kind of brick-like. I was hoping I could make some use out of it. I think I can, if all it is is black powder coated in dried-out pine resin..."

Lao stared at him. "Are you out of your mind? You'd detonate a whole barrel of that shit just to see if it still explodes?"

Sokka shrugged. "Why not?"

He sighed heavily. "You're just looking for an excuse to blow something sky high, aren't you?"

Sokka smirked. "Who needs excuses? It's _fun_."

* * *

Zuko was far happier than he knew was healthy to find Katara sitting up in her bedroll when he returned from having woken Sokka up as he'd promised and getting another pot of tea. He smiled as he sat down next to her, pouring a cup of rose-scented black tea and folding it into her hands. "Hey..."

She looked up, meeting his eyes for a moment before sipping carefully. He reached out to smoothe her hair, tucking a few errant strands behind her ear. "Katara?"

She swallowed thickly, shivering a little, but said nothing. He worried his lip a moment, drawing in a calming breath. "Katara...it's okay. Nobody's angry at you. We're all _worried_."

She shivered, putting the cup down. "I...m'sorry..."

He slid his arm around her shoulders, frowning. "What...What for?"

She swallowed thickly, still not meeting his eyes, her voice growing shakier with each phrase. "For all of that. All those people. All that bl--" She faltered on the word, covering her mouth with a hand and trembling under his arm.

He took her hands, squeezing them tightly. "Katara, it wasn't--"

She shook her head, biting back a sound for a moment before her voice escaped in a soft, cracking whisper. "N-No... No mercy."

"Kat--"

"No mercy for the demon..."

He shivered at the way she said that, a sudden, sick feeling washing over him. He raised a hand to her chin, turning her toward him and pressing her face gently between his palms. "Katara, listen to me. What you did out there...it was terrible, yes. I'm not going to deny that. But it does _not_ make you evil, or even dangerous. You... You're not like that. You're warm and gentle and loving, and I don't even want to _think_ about what happened that pushed you over the edge like that."

She trembled between his surprisingly steady hands, and he leaned close to touch his forehead to hers. "Yes, you killed a lot of people out there. So have others. Even Uncle, when he was in the military. And I still love him and think he's a good person, don't I?" He thumbed her cheek, not bothering to soften the seriousness in his eyes or voice. "The fact that you know it was wrong is what sets you apart. A demon would be proud, not sorry."

She closed her eyes, curling forward against his shoulder with a soft little whimper as he pulled her in close and tight, smoothing her hair and feeling the tension in his chest melt away into a relief that made his eyes sting a little as he closed them. Her small hands clung to the back of his shirt as shook there for a few minutes, whimpering into his shoulder.

He rubbed her back as felt her starting to relax against him, frowning as he pulled back only enough to meet her glassy eyes and flushed face, running a hand through her hair. "I'm not afraid _of_ you. I'm afraid _for_ you. I thought I was going to lose you in that river, and _that's_ what scared me. It's going to be okay, though. I promise. I'll help you, in any way you need. All you have to do is ask."

She nodded, sniffling a little and leaning against him again, curling up in his embrace with a soft shiver, and he understood the request as clearly as if she'd spoken. He took a deep, heating breath as he held her, like nothing so important or precious in his life.

* * *

Ty Lee groaned as she heaved on the rope, pulling a stone block into position for one of the men at the top of the wall to catch and drag into place. She loosed the rope once he was done, bringing the harness back to the ground to fit around the next block while her partner put down the next layer of mortar.

"Looking good."

She turned to see Mai coming up behind her, wiping an arm across her forehead. "Hey. You look beat."

"It's the weather," Mai groaned. "Stupid heat."

Ty Lee chuckled. "Oh come on. Summer back home is worse."

"Summer back home at least has rain. Can't say as much for this godforsaken sandbox."

Ty Lee chuckled. "Is that what was up with that ridiculous hair of yours?"

Mai picked up the harness, securing it around the far end of the block. "Sort of. Kept it off my neck at least."

The man at the top of the wall signaled down to them, and Ty Lee and Mai both started to heave the block up to him. He took it from them, and they let the harness drop for the next one. Ty Lee, cocked her head as she watched her friend work, noting that she hadn't bothered to tie it back up again. It was long and free and unadorned, easily reaching her waist. "I can solve the hair problem after we're done here, if you want."

Mai arched a brow at her. "Really?"

Ty Lee grinned. "You remember how much I always loved playing with your hair when we were kids, right?"

Mai smiled slightly. "I don't think I'll ever forget the first time you tried to braid it, and my mother spent two hours undoing the knot."

Ty Lee felt her face grow hot. "Mmm...I promise I won't completely screw it up this time."

Mai secured the harness, picking up the counter-rope and preparing to lift it once their signaled again. She smirked as Ty Lee joined her. "I'll have to hold you to that now."

Ty Lee flushed further, grabbing the length of rope behind Mai's hands. "Let's hope I'm as good as my word, then."

* * *

"So how's it going?" Aang asked as Haru handed him and Toph each a bowl of warm cabbage stew and a couple chunks of bread. He sat down with his own bowl, stating to eat.

"Not bad," he said. "We should have a serviceable base by the time Chief Arnook's forces arrive from the North. So far, we're working on fortifying the wall and the gates, and repairing the barracks and hospital." He sighed. "It'll be a skeleton operation, but it should be enough to launch the final attack on the capital from here. At least according to Iroh."

Aang nodded, taking a few mouthfuls of stew for himself as he listened. "You...look worried, though."

Haru dipped his bread, frowning. "The air fleet that took out Ba Sing Se is still out there. I doubt the Fire Nation is going to let us hold on to this place for long if they can help it. Sokka's working on some new weapon against the balloons, but...I don't know."

"He's our Idea Guy," Toph said, sipping half the broth from her bowl before eating the cabbage. "He'll think of something."

"You seem awfully confident."

Toph shrugged. "He helped invent the balloons didn't he? Who better to invent a counterweapon than the guy who knows them the best?"

Aang nodded. "I think I'll feel better once the Water Tribe arrives. Right now it's like...I feel like we're going nowhere."

"I know," Haru said. "But taking back Omashu with the little forces we had is still one hell of an accomplishment. We'll have a base now, and we'll have allies that'll take us, and more importantly Zuko, seriously."

Aang sighed, smiling wanly. "He's kind of the leader by default here, isn't he?"

Toph shrugged. "He _does_ have experience in his favor. More than the rest of us at least. You're talking a guy trained up to be a one-man war machine since he could walk." She snorted. "Not that he's very good at it considering all the times he's gotten his ass kicked, but you get the point."

Aang nodded. "Kinda makes me feel better, actually. I don't know why, but it does."

"I guess," Toph said, sighing and going back to her stew. "Don't mind me. I'm just trying to avoid saying 'we are so doomed' as loudly as possible."

* * *

It was hours later, slightly past sunset, that found Zuko sitting up by the main fire, Katara snuggled in his lap under a thick blanket. Sokka had managed to tear him away from her for a few hours, offering to keep an eye on her while Zuko went to go help out with the forge to get the city's main gates repaired. But the moment his help was no longer needed, he was back at her side. It had started to get cold with the chilly mountain air, and so he brought her out to the camp's large central blaze to warm her up.

He smoothed her hair as she slept soundly against his shoulder, having unplaited it long ago in order to run his fingers more easily through the thick, dark strands. And now as he sat in front of the fire, with her wrapped in a warm, tight embrace, her breath soft against the base of his neck, it did not escape his notice that he felt more relaxed and at ease than he had all day. It was an observation that both comforted and unnerved him. Especially when coupled with the conversation he'd had earlier with his uncle.

"You...must be Zuko."

He looked up at the voice, trying not to startle too hard and risk waking her. The man's face was eerily familiar: high forehead, narrow chin, deep set eyes... It took him a shameful twenty seconds to realize exactly who he was staring at. And an even more shameful ten of being too scared to speak, his face frozen in a rather comical expression somewhere between 'oh _hell_' and 'god please don't kill me.'

"Ch-Chief Hakoda... Well met."

He smiled. "I see my reputation precedes me."

Zuko swallowed thickly. "Er... I...."

Hakoda chuckled, taking a seat on the log next to him, which did wonders to make him seem less threatening. "They wouldn't shut up about me, would they?"

Zuko nodded, feeling distinctly humbled. "I know this is awkward for you to see, I just..."

"I've heard everything already," he said. "I got here hours ago. King Bumi and the White Lotus agents more than briefed me on what's going on. You and your uncle are our allies, and believe me, we need all the help we can get." He held his hands out to the fire, warming them. "I've also talked to Sokka. He's told me plenty about you."

Zuko swallowed hard again. "And...you still don't want to gut me like a landshark? I was...hardly an ally before now."

"He told me that part, too, yes. But I think you've done more than enough to make up for it." He frowned. "These are hard times. I know that it's foolishness, even suicide, to trust people from your enemy's side right off the bat. But when they prove themselves to be worthy of it like you and your uncle have, it makes even less sense to turn them away."

Zuko sighed. "She...She told me about the raid on her village. Her mother...your wife... I'm sorry. I know I had nothing to do with it and even Sokka doesn't blame me, but...it was under my family's watch. It was perpetrated by the people I'm going to have to rule someday, and I just...I feel like _somebody_ needs to say it..."

He felt Hakoda's hand settle on the shoulder opposite Katara. "Zuko...don't be ridiculous. What's kept this war going so long is that exact attitude. That somehow all the citizens of an entire nation should be held responsible for the actions of a few. I used to think like that myself, even. But being out there, in the field and seeing things that I never want to see again the rest of my life...it's taught me a lot." He sighed. "You're not the same soldiers that killed my wife and friends. You and my children have been through enough hell to last a few lifetimes. You don't need mindless hatred on top of it."

Zuko shifted her more comfortably in his lap, nodding and not really sure what to say in response to that. Hakoda smiled wanly at him. "You should go get some rest, perhaps. You look exhausted."

He shivered, wanting immediately to say no, although his body wholeheartedly agreed with Hakoda's assessment. And it was silly, he knew. Why shouldn't her father be with her now? He nodded, hoping he didn't look as reluctant as he felt. "I guess I should. Yeah." He carefully turned, shifting her into Hakoda's waiting arms, blanket and all, feeling his chest tighten as the man cradled her up close to his chest, letting her snuggle in until she settled with a soft sigh. He staggered to his feet, turning to go back to his own tent.

* * *

"So you told him?"

Shen nodded, sipping his tea quietly.

"What did he say?"

He sighed heavily. "He...He knew already. I just...I don't know how or why _he_ didn;t confront _me_ about it. I can't imagine being face to face with the man who destroyed my life and not saying a goddamned word about it..."

Lao reached forward, covering Shen's trembling hands with one of his own as he put down his tea. "General Iroh is different. Always has been."

"I know that. It still doesn't make sense."

Lao gently stroked the top of his hand, in a way that had always calmed him for as long as he could remember. "What...What made you tell him? I thought you were going to take it with you?"

"It was different then."

"What changed?"

Shen sighed wearily. 'When I said that...I was a man who had no children of his own. And thus didn't know what losing one might actually feel like."

He blinked, not liking at all the way he said that. "You..."

Shen looked up, his eyes misted. "I...I have a _son_, Lao. I met him, on the battlefield. He's a wall guard, captain by his uniform..."

His eyes widened. "How do you know he was--"

"He has my eyes," Shen replied. "And...he was wearing my signet. The one I gave to Niangxiong when I left to fight."

"Then..."

"I don't know. He claimed I was dead." Shen bit his lip. "God, he's full-grown. I didn't even know she was with child. How...How the _hell_ can I not know these things?"

Lao closed his eyes, willing the tightness in his chest to release. "Shen...it happens. It's war."

"I had to tell him. Having a son I didn't even know existed... Realizing for the first time in almost twenty years that I have _no idea_ what happened to my wife..."

Perhaps it was because he'd been the man's best and closest friend for nearly two decades. Perhaps it was because he'd seen him at his worst, down in the tunnels underneath Ba Sing Se and even in the tents on the surface before that fateful siege. Or even because he knew the world was crazy and that somehow, some way, they had both survived the bloodiest battle either of them had ever seen. But whatever the reason, he'd had it. Caution was not an option anymore.

He pulled him forward by his hands, into the kind of embrace that was reserved for those moments when they'd escaped death by a precious few inches. "We'll find out, once this is over. I promise."

They stayed like that for a few long moments, until Shen finally backed away, letting out a shuddery breath. "I'm...I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to listen to a grown man whine."

"Nonsense," Lao said, smiling softly and handing him his tea again. "What _else_ are best friends for?"

* * *

The first thing she was aware of upon waking was that the arms she was wrapped in were not Zuko's.

The second thing was that they were not her brother's, either.

A dull kind of panic welled up inside her at the realization, that she was warm and comfortable, and as far as she could tell safe and alive. But that the strong embrace she was curled up in and the chest she was nuzzled against were strange. Though somehow it felt and even smelled familiar. Like a dream that she couldn't recall the details of upon waking.

She blinked the sleep from her eyes, flinching at the sharp glow of the campfire in front of her. She groaned softly, and felt gentle fingers smoothing her hair as she stirred.

The figure above her was fuzzy and dark, but at the same time was one she vaguely recognized. Again, like a half-forgotten dream. She strained to make out the details, sucking in a breath. "Wh-Who..s'there...?"

A warm, roughened hand brushed her face, and slowly the man's features came into focus. An aged face and warm smile, framed by the wolf-tail and plaits that she knew were signature of her own people, the glow of the fire reflected in his misted dark eyes.

He brushed her hair loops back a little. "Hello...Princess..."

Her breath caught in her throat as recignition finally clicked in her sleep-clogged brain. There was only one man in the entire world who had _ever_ called her that. And only one who ever would.

Her voice broke on the word, from both sleep and her tightening chest. "...D-Dad..."

He nodded, pressing her tight against his shoulder. "Yeah, it's me, sweetheart. God, I missed you so much..."

She didn't bother to bite back the tiny, happy sob that spilled over her lips. For words to express the kind of relief flooding through her had yet to be invented. She wrapped her arms tight around him in return, clinging to him and feeling like she was five years old again and really, really not caring how silly she might look doing so. He was alive and she was thanking the Moon he was alive and that was all that mattered right now as far as she was concerned.

For the first time in a very long time, she believed it. Everything was going to be all right.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's Note: The next chapter may take a while for me to write, as things are getting a bit crazy in my personal life right now. I thank you, all of you who send me feedback -- even if it's just adding this to your favorites/alerts -- and I want to assure you this story, all three books of it, _will_ get finished come hell or high water. It just might take a little longer than you or I would like.


	14. The Northern Forces

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 14: The Northern Forces

* * *

_"Clear!"_

The spectators all ducked behind the thick stone shields Toph had erected as Sokka prepared the fuse. Lao cleared his throat, a tiny flame lit on the end of his finger.

"I've calculated the average blast radius for a full barrel of jelly," he said. "But keep in mind this is an experiment. It could be more or less potent than average. Not so bad if it's less. But if your theory is right, we'll just have to hope those shields can stand it."

Sokka nodded. "That's why Toph is standing by."

Lao nodded. "Give the word, and we'll get this show started."

The boy swallowed thickly, licking his lips as he surveyed the setup. Everyone was safely behind the blast shields, waiting with bated breath. He turned back to Lao. "All yours, Hot Stuff."

Lao bent down, touching his finger to the fuse's end, and quickly ducking behind the shield with an equally nervous Sokka.

The seconds ticked by endlessly as the fuse hissed down to its last. And it was in that tiny split moment of hard silence that everyone braced themselves in unison, knowing what was to come next. Sokka crouched low, covering his head with his arms.

Time itself could have exploded.

The ground shook with a vengeance, and he heard Toph's angry, incoherent shriek of pain as the vibrations wreaked havoc on her sensitive feet. The blast shield in front of him cracked threateningly in the monstrous shockwave, the rush of wind after it left him panting when the chaos finally settled.

He blinked, peeking around the stone barrier to see the last of the dust plume rising into the sky. He wiped the dirt from his face, swallowing thickly as he stepped out from behind the shield.

"Is...e-everyone okay?"

A chorus of affirmative murmurs answered him, punctured only by Toph's grudging agreement as she sat down and cradled her sore feet.

Lao shuffled up beside him, clapping a hand on his shoulder with a grin. "I believe this is what we call a talent for destruction."

Sokka laughed nervously. "How would you rate that? You know, compared to blowing up a barrel of normal blasting jelly."

"Definitely more powerful. By how much I'm not sure. But I've detonated full barrels before and they were never enough to shake the ground like that."

Sokka could not help the grin that spread across his face. "There's about...forty more barrels where that came from, give or take. This oughtta be interesting."

"I guess the big question is getting the stuff into a form you can use _without_ having to blow up the entire barrel."

Sokka nodded. "I'll figure that out after. The fact that it still explodes at all is what's really important at the moment."

The soldier stroked his chin. "I'm sure there's a hefty dose of irony in the fact that it's _more_ powerful when everyone else thought it was useless."

"There is," Sokka said. "But I'll find time to be amused later. Right now, I got work to do."

* * *

"Done!"

Mai heard the last few snips of the shears, letting out a soft breath and hoping she wouldn't regret this too much. Not that she was all that concerned with how her hair was going to look after this as long as she still had some and it was short enough to stave off the Earth Kingdom heat.

Ty Lee carefully combed out her wet hair, pulling the cut strands from her neck, before fetching a mirror and setting it in front of her. Mai angled it so she could see, drawing in a short, deep breath.

Her hair hung below her jaw but above her shoulders, straight and shiny and simple. Framing her face at an angle that flattered her for once. Or what Mai took to be flattering because she no longer thought she looked like a severely mutated ostrich-horse.

Ty Lee hovered over her shoulder, sucking in a breath. "Well...? Verdict?"

"...I like it," she murmured. "I feel like someone just cut six pounds of deadweight off my head, but I can't say it's a bad thing."

Ty Lee chuckled, relieved. "It looks good on you, too. You look better with your hair close to your face like that instead of pulled up."

Mai smirked. "Yeah. It's generally good to draw the eye away when your face is that hideous."

She frowned. "You are _not_ hideous. You just don't look good with your hair pulled up is all." Mai looked up at her, eyebrow raised. The crease in her forehead deepened. "You're always putting yourself down. I hate it when you talk like that."

"What's wrong with a little self-deprecating humor?"

Ty Lee shook her head. "Because it's not funny when I can tell you actually believe it."

Mai sighed. "Sorry. It's just...something I was always brought up to think. You know my parents. Keep your head down and your mouth shut because you exist for one purpose, and that's to make a husband happy. And no husband wants a wife who has too much confidence."

Ty Lee smiled. "Oh I know all that. I also know that your parents are both complete idiots, so you should kinda take everything they told you with an entire shaker of salt."

Mai couldn't help cracking a smile at that. "You have a point."

She sighed wistfully. "Sometimes I think the circus made me...forget how to be a girl. Or at least forget how to be the kind of girl I'm supposed to."

"That's not really a bad thing," Mai said. "The Proper Fire Nation Lady model is okay if you're into that, but if it makes you miserable it's not a crime to say 'screw this' and go your own way." She pursed her lips. "It took me far longer than it should have to figure that one out."

"At least you did," Ty Lee said. "Come on, we should get some food to cheer us up. Dunno about you but stacking bricks all morning is kinda making my stomach threaten to eat _me_ if I don't put something in it."

"As long as someone else is making it," Mai agreed, getting up to follow her. "I don't think you want me near a cooking fire."

"After the time you tried to make _shaomai_ and the three of us ended up in bed puking for a week? Yeah, I'm not wanting a repeat, either." She chuckled. "Let's go."

* * *

"You think they're really going to take us seriously?"

Hakoda nodded. "I doubt they would spend the resources for a two week voyage, even for an envoy, if they didn't think there was something to be gained by it. Chief Arnook can be a little out with the times, but he's no idiot."

Sokka nodded as he watched the lone corsair dock, the small crew securing the moorings before unfolding the boarding ramp. Master Pakku stood at the head of the ramp, surveying the land for a moment before descending, guardsmen falling into step behind him.

Sokka held out his hand, and the old master pulled his glove off to shake it. "It's good to see you again. I just wish the circumstances weren't so dire." He turned to Hakoda. "You, too. According to King Bumi's note, we have much to discuss."

Hakoda nodded. "Yes. But it's best to jump into it when you're alert and rested, not right off the boat from a three-week sail. Come on, you and your men are probably starved."

"Perhaps." He frowned. "I'm rather curious to meet the insane individual who organized such a success, though. Not even Bumi could've pulled something like this off without help."

"Since it's almost dinnertime, we're likely to meet him at the fire with everyone else," Sokka said.

"Fair enough."

He lead the way ahead of his father and their new arrivals, following the trail back up to their camp. The smell of cooking vegetables led him to the clearing's main fire where Suki and Katara perched on logs, across from the Dangerous Lady turncoats whose names he'd finally learned. The one Ty Lee was ladeling out bowls of stew, handing one each to Katara and Suki before she and Mai took their own share. The image was disconcerting at best, but he shook his head to regain his focus.

"Hey guys...or gals." They looked up, and Katara smiled faintly at the sight of her old master. "This is Master Pakku of the Northern Forces." He turned to Pakku, introducing each of them. "That's Suki of Kyoshi Island, and these two are Mai and Ty Lee. They're Fire Nation, but on our side."

Pakku stared, looking to the two women. "How are you so sure?"

"For one thing, we have a human lie detector in our midst who gave them the all clear," Suki said. "For another, almost getting killed would be one hell of a ruse."

"I think we can speak for ourselves," Mai said. "We're helping out because we're both sick of the war and the idiots running the show. Starting it was a stupid idea in the first place, and the cover story is something only your average brain-dead nationalist would believe. There are far more effective ways to share your culture with the world than killing everyone in it."

Pakku blinked. "I have to admit, that's not a response I was expecting from anybody in the Fire Nation."

"Well you know what they say about fire," Ty Lee said, pulling out another earthen bowl from the stack at the cauldron's side. "It doesn't always go where the wind drives it." She ladeled out a bowl of stew, handing it to him. "Here. There's more than enough for everyone."

Pakku took it warily, but sat on the log anyway, holding the bowl to warm his hands. "You do know word of this has spread faster than a cholera epidemic, right? And not just to our allies."

Sokka nodded. "I think we're all aware of that. Which is why we're trying to get our invasion plan together quickly." He sighed. "This was an insane stroke of luck, and I want to make sure it's not all pointless in the end."

Hakoda shook his head. "Luck had little to do with it, don't sell yourself short. You were outnumbered almost seven to one and you still managed to take it back. This was organized and executed almost flawlessly."

Sokka flushed. "Yeah, I guess. I'm not the one you should be complimenting, though."

"Well who should the applause go to?"

He looked up for a minute, smiling at that familiar silhouette headed toward them, and raised his hand to wave him over. "There he is. Yo Zuko!"

Pakku nearly choked on a mouthful of stew. "_Zuko?_ As in _Prince?_"

"Someone call for me?" Zuko asked, using the rag draped over his neck and bare shoulders to wipe his forehead. He stopped short at the site of Master Pakku, swallowing thickly and bowing with nervous haste.

Sokka couldn't help the smirk as Pakku waved the notion away, seemingly too stunned for formalities. "What can we say? You're kind of the man of the hour."

Hakoda moved over, inviting him to a seat. "Relax. We'll only bombard you with questions after you've had a chance to cool down. You look exhausted."

Zuko swept his damp hair back, taking the bowl of stew Ty Lee offered him with a nod of thanks. "N-Not that tired. We almost have the front gate repaired. Going to do a little more work on it tonight after Shen's men finish second shift." He puffed a thick lock of hair out of his face. "I doubt they're going to be back to retake this place anytime soon after...after what happened. But I want to be prepared just in case."

Pakku raised a thick eyebrow. "What _did_ happen?"

Zuko opened his mouth to respond, but glanced over to where Katara sat, frowning blankly and picking at her stew. He swallowed hard. "We'll explain later."

Pakku looked over at his student, suspicion darkening his face, but seemed to think better of pushing the issue. "Very well. I'll be...interested to hear it."

Katara shivered visibly at that tone, but merely looked up, staring into the fire.

* * *

Jin balanced the tray easily front of her, laden with large clay bowls of lemon-water for those working on the gate. Last thing they needed right now was to have somebody drop like a sack of grain from heat exhaustion. She set the tray down on a nearby boulder, calling out to them.

"Hey guys! Water break!"

She watched as Shen finished welding a reinforced bolt to fasten the hinge to the masonry, and climbed down the rickety scaffolding to meet her. He wiped his chest and shoulders off with a towel, taking one of the bowls and sipping it gratefully. "Thank you. We have the framework nearly done. Zuko said his team would finish repairing the gate itself. We should have it re-hung by morning."

She smiled. "Good to hear. I just...want you to know how valuable you and your men have been to this operation. We couldn't have gotten this far without you."

He flushed slightly. "Those are kind words, my lady. I figure it's the least I can do to help get this war overwith. It's gone on long enough."

Jin sighed, sitting down on one of the benches. "I... I know."

He arched a brow. "What is it?"

"It's nothing important, don't worry."

He frowned. "It's a little more than nothing if it has you upset."

"Mmm." She looked up at the gate as the rest of the men started to drift over to the tray of water. "Just about everyone I know is anxious for the war to end so they can go home to families they haven't seen in years. But I...don't really have one. My father died long ago, and the Lotus are really the only people I've known that are even remotely close to family. I just...don't know what I'm going to do when there's nobody to fight."

Shen set a hand on her back, warm and heavy. "Just because the war is over doesn't mean there's nothing to be done. After the truces comes the rebuilding. People whose lives are destroyed but they're still on their feet somehow are going to want to start over, and they'll need a city to do so in." He smiled. "Ba Sing Se was your home for so long. It may be a pile of rubble now, but when you start building it back up...give it a few generations and you'll have a city that might even surpass the previous one in splendor."

The corner of her mouth lifted a little. "Like the Phoenix. Rising from its own ashes."

He nodded. "My country's history is rife with civil wars. So much so that we have an old saying. 'It takes but a moment to injure, yet a lifetime to heal.' The longer a war has lasted, the more work there will be in cleaning up when it's over."

Jin nodded. "I suppose you're right. It's just going to be weird for a while."

"That it will," Shen agreed with a bit of a chuckle, sipping the last of the water in the bowl. "But believe me, you'll have plenty to do to keep yourself occupied. Probably more than you ever thought you'd want."

* * *

"So you say that blasting jelly is even more powerful once it dries it out?" Zuko said, filling up the kettle as the swift darkness of evening began to settle and hanging it on the hook above the cooking fire to boil. "I want to ask what possessed you to just blow up an entire barrel of the stuff, but I'm probably better off not knowing."

"One would think you Fire Nation types would be far less freaked out by explosives than you are," Sokka observed, watching his friend unwrap what was left of the _genmai_ tea brick they'd been whittling down the last few weeks and roasting the final piece gently over a flame at the end of his finger.

Zuko frowned. "Any Firebender who isn't a raving psychotic holds a healthy amount of respect for his element. Especially when it takes the form of a raging ball of death."

"I guess you have a point." He sighed. "Now the real question is finding a way to use the stuff in a practical manner. Like when you want a steak, you don't cook the whole cow every time."

Zuko snorted. "Only you would compare developing new death weapons to carving meat."

He grinned cheekily. "I would, wouldn't I?"

"What did you have in mind, if you could use it in smaller amounts?"

Sokka put his hands together. "We're going to need something to combat the rest of the balloon fleet. Even if they don't come back _here_ because they're scared witless of my sister, they'll be defending the capital for sure.

"Right now, the best long-range heavy artillery you guys have is the catapult. Better than a trebuchet, but still pretty crude and can't aim worth a damn. They're like arrows, just bigger. You fling a lot of them and pray to God they hit something.

"Well...what if you could harness and channel the force of an explosion to propel giant rocks instead of leverage or stored tension? You'd have something you could aim that would blast your target to hell rather than pelt it."

Zuko put out the flame on his finger, grabbing a mortar and pestle and starting to absently grind the piece of roasted tea brick with the ease of a practiced hand. "I like where this is going. Trouble is, you'd need very small amounts of the dried blasting jelly if it's as powerful as you say."

He nodded. "Yeah. Unless you want to go launching _mountains_ at them. Which would be kind of awesome to watch, but the logistics of it would be a nightmare."

"I can imagine." He scraped the sides of the mortar, making sure not to leave any chunks of unground tea to overbrew. "Have you talked to Lao about it? Shen tells me he's kind of the man for blowing things sky high."

"He thought the idea was good, but he's stumped on how to get the forty barrels of solid hellfire we have sitting in the armory into a form that's usable."

Zuko shrugged, opening the teapot and beginning to funnel the ground up tea powder into it, his friend watching him intently. "Damn. I guess we'll think of a way to do it eventually. But have to make 'eventually' mean 'really damn fast' if we're going to have this kind of superweapon ready in time."

Sokka's eyes widened as if hit with a sudden realization, blinking suddenly. "That...That piece of tea brick. What do you normally do to prepare it?"

Zuko arched a brow, confused. "Well, to get it to dissolve in boiling water, you have to pulverize it. If it's a large brick, that usually means busting it up into smaller chunks... Why?"

His friend nodded slowly in satisfaction, an excited grin creeping from one ear to the other. "You? You're a damned _genius_." He got up, whole body almost vibrating with adrenaline. "Save me some of that, ok? I'll be right back."

Zuko watched him leave, wondering what apocalyptic can of destruction he'd just unleashed. And deciding that, like most things which involved Sokka and weaponry, he was best left in the dark for now.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	15. The War Table

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 15: The War Table

* * *

_The door shuddered under the man's insistent pounding as the two women on the other side braced it with a heavy chair beneath the handle. He watched helplessly as they grabbed him by his tiny shoulders, retreating into an alcove of the house's large main hall._

_"You two," the taller woman commanded. "You must get out of here. Save yourselves."_

_"But Mama..." he began to protest, a cold knot of dread forming in the pit of his stomach._

_The other woman shook her head. "Your mother is right. Life is too precious to waste. If we all stay here, all of us will die." She stood up, pulling him close. "Come with me. We can escape out the back."_

_"Wait." His mother paused, long enough to remove the signet ring on her finger and hand it to her. "Take this. In case he ever comes home."_

_She smiled, pocketing the ring. "I will."_

_The door shattered with a dreaded splintering sound. His mother frantically waved them off, rising to her feet and grabbing the large candlestick holder, brandishing it as a quarterstaff. The other woman quickly scooped his small body into her arms, running and ducking through the house to the back door. He buried his face in the shoulder of her dress, whimpering as the sounds of a struggle followed them long after he could no longer hear..._

Zha bolted upright in bed, strangled shriek trapped in his throat, sweat streaking his neck and face. It took him a full twenty seconds to realize he was in his room, at the barracks of the Fire Capital's outermost wall.

It was dark. The middle of the night, as far as he could tell by the chill in the air. Though a few hours still remained before dawn, he knew he was not going back to sleep tonight. Slipping out of bed, he fetched his robe off the hair, wrapping it around his naked form and tying the sash as he stepped up to the window.

The stars were bright, the moon clear and waning. Just as it had been _that_ night.

He looked down at his hand, twirling the ring around his finger. The moonlight glinted on the twin dragons like gold fire, and he traced the lightning bolt between them.

The nightmare was a recurring one. The portrait of a memory he could never quite get out of his head no matter how many years had gone by. His aunt had taken him on back of an ostrich horse after they escaped the house and certain death, travelling for weeks to one of the larger islands further up the chain. There they would settle for the next ten years, until Zha himself entered the military. She'd given him the ring his mother had given her for safekeeping. So that his father's spirit might watch over him.

Only now, it served to draw the good-for-nothing traitor out of the crowd, to show him the true colors of the man he'd just about worshipped since he was a child. The feeling was indescribable. His mother was gone because this son of a bitch was too busy subverting his own country to even care what happened to his family. It wouldn't surprise him if the man had sent the assassin himself to their home.

And yet, underneath that burning anger and the desire to kick the man bloody if he ever saw him again, there was a feeling not unlike being run through the back by his most trusted comrade.

Blood was thicker than water, he'd heard. The ties to family were something endemic to his people's culture. Something he'd always been told made the Fire Nation superior to the rest of the world, who might turn on their siblings or parents, husbands or wives in less than the glint of an eye if it was to their benefit. He vaguely wondered if that was a self-righteous exaggeration to compensate for the opposite tendency, or if his father was just a lousy example of a good Fire Nation citizen. Considering he was a marvelously lousy example of both a man and a soldier, he was inclined to go with the latter.

He looked back up at the view of the wall under the sky beyond his window. _Summer_, he thought. Zhū Què, the Vermillion Bird, had already taken his perch in the night sky. The comet would be upon them soon, and the war would be over. One way or another.

Such knowledge had also been creeping into his heart ever since he'd joined the military. He knew that the war would be over this year, that it was his and every other soldier's last chance for recognition. Likely for the rest of their lives, as his nation certainly intended to win as decisively as possible, leaving no hope for retaliation, unless the heavens themselves saw fit to punish them. The question of what to do afterward was a fanciful musing that nobody considered important enough to answer. Not until now, when he and everyone else at his side could see that bridge on the horizon. What to do indeed, in a world where the soldier would no longer be needed.

Of course, he knew, it was quite possible that he wouldn't make it to the other side of that bridge at all, which would render all of his worries moot.

In a small, secret part of his heart, a part that he was determined would stay small and secret, it was the only outcome he dared to wish for.

* * *

Sokka, it seemed, was far more adept at drawing the blueprints for nightmarish weaponry than he was at drawing a flying bison. He rolled the parchment out onto the table, weighting the corners with stones as his audience gathered around the great stone table in the center of the complex. To his right, Aang, Zuko, Iroh, Hakoda, and Bumi. To his left, Shen, Lao, Pakku, and Jin.

"So...we all know that we're kind of outnumbered and outclassed by the Fire Nation's capital forces. Especially since the balloon fleet that leveled Ba Sing Se to the ground is still out there." He swallowed thickly. "I...I figure if I'm the one who built the weapon that caused so much damage, I should also be the one to build the weapon that gives us the advantage once again." At the nods of approval from round the table, he continued.

"In order to fight something that travels by air, we obviously need a weapon that can either fly as well or fling projectiles. Rather than invent a new flying machine that our enemies are going to literally see coming a mile away, I figured a better bet would be to improve on the projectile weapons we've already got."

He pointed to the sketch. "This is the plan for the new weapon. Using just a little of that dried blasting jelly as a charge, the barrel will channel the explosion to launch these things into the balloon canopies." He pointed to a drawing of what looked like a stick with a wide, tapered head. "The point will tear the skin of the balloon, while the body of it widens the hole.

"The launcher itself is mostly wood with steel reinforcements, so it's light enough for someone to hoist onto their shoulder. And each one is equipped with a sight for aiming."

Zuko blinked, astonished. "How exactly do you plan to get the blasting jelly into small enough charges?"

Sokka smirked. "I got the idea when I watched you preparing tea. We can grind it up the same way we do teacakes. They're bricks of resin, so they're not going to spark when broken up and ground by hand."

"You have one that we can see in action yet?" Jin asked.

"Almost," Sokka answered. "Still working on building it. The only drawback to the design is that it'll likely take two people to operate efficiently unless I can streamline the reloading process."

Pakku arched a brow, stroking his beard. "About how many do you think we can build with the resources we have?"

"I'm looking at a couple hundred at the very least," Sokka replied. "And that's not all. That dried out jelly has other uses, too. Since the capital is a port city, we can arm the warships with larger versions of this weapon and be able to do more damage before we ever get to shore."

"Impressive," Pakku said, nodding in approval. "Now we just need an actual deployment strategy. Which, admittedly, we don't have much to work with."

Sokka nodded. "That isn't my department, though. For that, I'll have to hand it over to our Fearless Leader, here."

With a thick swallow, Zuko stepped up to the table, map in hand as Sokka took his schematic and rolled it back up into a wooden scroll case. Zuko unraveled his, weighting it at the corners and clearing his throat.

"Like Master Pakku has said, we don't have much in the way of troops to work with. So we'll have to employ a strategy that breaks up the capital's occupying force into a size we can handle." He took a pin from the side of the table, decorated with the flame emblem, and stuck it in a spot near the eastern coast of the Fire Nation's largest island.

"This is the Fire Nation capital. The trick to weakening their forces is that we have to divide our own into large enough numbers to look like a threat from all sides. What I plan to do is split the Clay Army and the Earthbenders into two divisions to attack from the north and south. The Water Tribes can then move in from the east by sea."

"What about the western front?" Hakoda asked.

Zuko sucked in a breath, pointing to a large area west of the city. "The city sits on the eastern flank of Mount Wolong. The Sleeping Dragon. The legend among the Fire Nation is that the Dragon wakes in a time of great turmoil, to choose the Fire Lord that will rise from the chaos." He let out that breath, closing his eyes for a moment before meeting the gazes of the assembled leaders. "Well, I think it's time to wake it up."

Shen blinked. "Okay, I admit an eruption is one _hell_ of a diversion, but I didn't think utterly destroying the city was your aim, here."

"It's not. But since your platoon isn't really enough to cover the western front, you're going to need a little help."

Lao arched a brow. "You really expect him and I to make a volcano erupt?"

Zuko shook his head. "Of course not. At least, not by yourselves."

Shen gave a resigned sigh. "Do we want to know?"

Zuko again pointed to the map. "According to the sparse written history that hasn't been eradicated, Mount Wolong is at least a couple centuries overdue for another eruption. If the pressure's built up as much as I suspect..."

"...All it's going to take are a few things going boom in the right place," Sokka finished.

Zuko nodded. "Toph will go with you to determine where to place the explosives, which Sokka will provide. The eruption's purpose is to cause confusion and panic rather than actual damage, to weaken the occupying forces' psyche and effectiveness."

"So how do you plan to keep it that way?" Lao asked. "I mean, you can't exactly tell the volcano this over a pot of tea."

Zuko smiled thinly, turning to Aang. "That's where you come in. Nearly everything that comes out of a volcano is rock and air that have been kept under immense heat and pressure. You are the only one among us who can bend both of these elements."

Aang took a couple of deep breaths, opening and closing his mouth a few times before finally blurting it out. "You want me to _what?_"

Sokka clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Oh come on. It's not like you've never stopped the wrath of nature from burying a village before. You just have to be scary about it this time."

Aang looked between the two of them, utterly dumbfounded.

Zuko sighed, resting his hands on Aang's shoulders. "Aang, please. This is the most important part of the plan. Losing Ba Sing Se was a heavy blow to our numbers. Even with the remaining forces of Omashu, Shen's platoon, and both Water Tribes combined, our chances are still pretty dismal. Without the Eclipse on our side, we'll need Mount Wolong to distract and weaken the enemy.

"But at the same time, we can't afford to destroy the Fire Nation capital. Not only are there innocent civilians living there, but we'll need the city to stand as unharmed as possible if there's any hope of peace after the fighting is over. Nothing ruins international relations like razing another guy's home to the ground. You and Toph must manage the eruption so that it looks as terrifying as possible, but mitigate the damage to the city. It's a distraction, not a weapon."

His face turned grave. "Without this, we will lose. And everyone who died for Omashu will have done so in vain."

Aang swallowed thickly, silent for a long moment. He stepped away from Zuko's hands, bowing low. "I'm in." He looked up again, face uncharacteristically severe. "Just don't make me regret it."

* * *

Azula perched before the silver mirror before her, pulling a brush through her dark hair and tying it back into a simple ponytail in preparation for sleep. The sky outside the window lay dotted with stars, moonlight blanketing the city below her high tower room.

New Ozai was once again Omashu. The harrowing tales on the lips of the surivors, of one Waterbender singlehandedly painting the streets with the blood of their comrades, made even the most stalwart generals loath to recapture it. And on top of it all the two people in the world that she thought lacked the spine or wits to betray her and live had, in fact, done both.

She scowled at her reflection, now devoid of her meticulously applied makeup, as plain and unremarkable as she dared appear only behind closed doors. No doubt her brother's ragtag rebellion would be preparing to march on the capital soon, after savoring a victory that most could only chalk up to sheer dumb luck. If only because they didn't want to admit that a single Water Tribe peasant had sent them screaming for the hills in terror.

A knock at the door made her snap around, scowl deepening. "I'm not expecting any visitors!"

"Not even I?"

Her shoulders relaxed at the familiar voice, expression melting not unlike tense muscles under the hand of a practiced masseuse. "No, not even. But...I'm willing to make an exception."

The door opened, revealing General Chiang's lean, towering figure. "Good evening, Princess."

Normally she would stand up and at the very least put forth an effort to make herself decent. She did the former, but only to go to the counter and pour him a cup of cherry blossom tea from the steaming pot there. "What brings you here?"

He smiled thinly, taking the teacup from her hand. "I could not help but notice how troubled you are by the most recent events. I thought...you might like some company."

Her lips tugged into a lopsided grin as she lead him over to the small wooden table, turning up the candles burning near the dresser with a wave of her hand. "I admit, losing Omashu was not something that I expected to happen. And I certainly did not expect our nation's finest to wilt in the face of a mere girl."

"Mmm. I think most of them have simply grown complacent."

She arched a brow, sipping her own tea. "What makes you say that?"

"While we haven't decisively won this war, we have been the dominant winning force for the last hundred years. Easy victory breeds overconfidence, and when an army that consists of mostly the young and untried who have merely fed off the aura of accomplishment that previous generations built meets a new threat that they were never taught how to handle, they panic." He sipped his tea thoughtfully. "And we all know the consequences of panicking in the face of certain death."

"A good point," she mused, playing with the end of her ponytail.

"There is another matter as well. Even in our culture, while we do place weapons and fire in the hands of women, only the most elite ever see the battlefield. Thus, the mindset of the recently trained with a sword in his hand is to fear the women in battle even more than his male enemies." He reached across the table, settling a hand over hers. "And many still are neither used to nor comfortable with the idea of a woman being beautiful and deadly at the same time."

His hand was warm, fingers slender but still able to cover her own completely. She smiled, eyes narrowing as she slipped her fingers between his. "Hmm... Are _you_ comfortable with such a woman?"

He grinned. "I prefer her that way."

"I see." She lifted a hand, dimming the candles so that deep shadows danced across the room. The tiny orange glints shone in his eyes like a pair of burning coals above his wide smile. "Even if she's potentially lethal to _you?_"

"Especially so," he replied. "For such a woman is a challenge that I gladly rise to meet."

"You are unique among men," she said. "Most would prefer to find someone easier to handle."

He smirked. "That, my dear Princess, is why it took so long to conquer the Impenetrable City." He squeezed her hand a bit. "As for the current affair... Anyone foolish to come knocking on this door will be in for a bit of a surprise."

She arched a brow. "Oh?"

"Relax, Princess," he said, cradling her hand with one of his and stroking the back of it with the other. "You won't be disappointed."

Her expression melted again into one of wry amusement, and she gave a graceful flick of her hand.

The candles died in answer.

* * *

She sat up late by the fire, waiting for the kettle to steam and wrapping her arms about her sides. Even for midspring, the mountain air was damp and chill. The plans had been set, and her brother, Shen, Lao, and Toph were preparing to carry out the first phase.

They'd survived through so much. And now, with those she held dearest venturing into the very heart of enemy territory, the thought she may not see any of them again was impossible to ignore. She looked up to the horizon, the dark sky flecked with stars and the treetops awash with cold moonlight. They would set sail before dawn with Bato. And all she could do was pray they returned.

"I thought I'd find you still up."

She whipped around with a gasp, but softened once she saw the face and form of her mentor as he stepped into the circle of firelight. She hastily bowed her head in respect, though she remained seated.

He nodded, stepping up to the fire and taking a seat on the log next to her, holding his withered hands out to warm them. "They...told me what happened here. What you did out on the battlefield."

She swallowed thickly, an icy shudder coursing down her spine.

"Relax. I'm not here to scold you. You've done that much yourself already."

She was about to answer when the kettle began to sing. She leapt up to get it and pour them each a cup of tea, warming her hands before taking a sip. "I'm sorry. I just...I couldn't think. Not until Aang and Sokka knocked me to my senses and I saw everything I'd done..."

Pakku's hand settled on her back. "I know. Believe me, I know. A lot more than you think I do." At her questioning look, he continued. "When Zhao attacked the Northern Tribe this winter, Chief Arnook had uniforms salvaged from the last time the Fire Nation was on our shores. Eighty-five years ago."

She nodded. "I...I wondered why they hadn't seen fit to bother you again until Aang showed up, but..."

"At the time," he said, "my father, Amak, was in charge of our meager military. There were no restrictions on who could be trained, man or woman, because we were desperate for defenders. One of the Waterbenders trained for combat was a young woman whom we called Ulva, for her wolf-like demeanor. She would later become my father's wife, and eventually my mother.

"When the attack finally came, the fighting was intense. Even moreso than had been anticipated. My father fell on the battlefield. My mother, by all later accounts, lost her mind.

"She pulled the same technique you did, using every source of water available. Ice, snow...and blood. The Fire Nation force that had come to invade us was almost five thousand strong. Less than a thousand made it out alive. And most of those who fell did so by her hand. Even as they were retreating, surrendering, pleading for their lives, she cut them down like vermin. Until Saghani, one of the archers, stopped her with an arrow to the back. But it was too late for the invaders. It remained the most spectacular military defeat the Fire Nation had ever suffered on foreign soil, until the siege of Ba Sing Se."

He looked to at the fire. Never in training had she seen him so somber. "For decades, it was all anyone could talk about. It was all I'd heard of my parents. The Father Wolf who fell in battle, and the She-Wolf who took her almost divine revenge."

"...That's why you didn't want to train me," she said. "You were afraid." She swallowed hard, looking back at her hands and willing the scent of phantom blood out of her mind. "I proved all your worst fears true, didn't I?"

He shook his head. "I wish things were that simple, Katara. But they're not. Sometimes...we're called on to do the most heinous, unspeakable things for a greater cause. If my mother had not done what she did, the Northern Tribe would have been wiped out by the invading force. You in turn sent nearly eight hundred soldiers to their graves. What would've happened if you hadn't, I shudder to think about." He turned back to her. "I don't agree with what you did. At all. But it prevented a far worse disaster and for that I have to be thankful, if reluctantly so."

She took an awkward sip of her tea. "Even still, I'm not proud of it." Her eyes stung threateningly. "I never could be..."

"I know." His hand moved to her shoulder. "And that is why there is something I wish to ask of you."

She wiped the corners of her eyes, looking up at him. "Wh-What is it?"

"The White Lotus," he said. "Along with General Iroh, I'm one of its Grand Masters, a position I've held for the last thirty years or so."

She smiled wanly. "Can't say I'm surprised."

He nodded. "As you're aware, I'm not young anymore. And for the last decade I've been searching for someone to be able to replace me when I'm gone." He looked squarely at her. "You are the only person I've seen _in my life_ who could possibly take up that mantle. Yours is not merely a talent, but a gift. One that I'd like to see realized to it's full potential before I die. If we both live to see the end of this, I want you to come with me back to the North.

"In order to take my place, there are things I need still to pass on to you. Not just the most advanced Waterbending techniques ever invented, but also the most sacred teachings and secrets of both the Northern and Southern Tribes."

She stared, wide-eyed. "Even after...?"

"Katara," he said, "you are not a bad person. Despite what you did out there, you are not evil. Sokka and Prince Zuko didn't just tell me what happened on the battlefield, but off it as well. I know about the river."

She shivered, looking away from him ashamedly. His hand became an arm across her shoulders. "The fact that you know what you did and you feel such remorse for it is _precisely_ why I'm asking you of all people to do this for me. A Grand Master must know all sides of the art, not just the pretty and safe ones. The ugly and dangerous aspects are even more important. You know and understand that horrific power better than anybody alive.

"I know I'm asking much, and the choice, of course, is yours. But if it helps, I'm not asking this as your mentor. I'm asking as an old man who doesn't have much time left, and who wishes not to take the greatest secrets of his culture to his grave."

She swallowed thickly, staring at the fire for a long moment, before letting out a slow breath and closing her eyes. "If I'm the one you really want to do this...then I will."

He let out the breath he'd been holding. "Thank you." He gave her shoulders a slight tug with his arm. "It's all right, now. You should go get some rest."

She stood, bowing on shaky legs. "No. It's I who should be thanking you. For still believing in me."

He smiled. "Keep giving me reasons to believe in you. That's all the thanks I need."

* * *

He stormed through the corridors of the palace like a rebellious angel, face a steel-edged scowl as he headed toward the Shrine of the Eternal Flame. The great conflagration that represented the very nation's Inner Fire, that which was never allowed to go out. The doors glided open with a single, pitiful squeak of protest, which he paid no heed to. The shimmering heat greeted him with quick breeze across his face as he prostrated before the blaze.

The Comet would be upon them soon, and it was the only thing that made the loss of Omashu excusable. Soon, the war would be over, and the world would be under his thumb. As it had not been for his father, and never would be for his brother. He smiled at the thought. Finally, after so many years.

He rose back up to his knees, pulling and laying out the three rolled up scrolls he'd had tucked into his robes. He unraveled the first one, revealing an inked portrait of his brother. Decades younger and stronger, the pride of the nation before his fall. Gold before it had seen the years of tarnish and wear, and became as dented and dull as any piece of discarded brass. He placed the weighted stones at the scroll's four corners to keep it from rolling up.

"All my life, I've fought to be seen as merely an equal to you," he said. "But today, I surpass you. Today, I take all that you have ever held dear and I cast it into the fire. I cast it into ash and nothingness even as you watch."

He took the second scroll he'd laid out, still rolled. "Lu Ten. Your son, who would have succeeded you. The son you had to bury instead. I cast him into the fire!" He raised the scroll, hurling it at the blaze and watching as the flames snatched it almost with a will of their own, greedily consuming it in a shower of sparks.

He smiled, picking up the other rolled up scroll. "Zuko. Your nephew, whom you looked to as your own. The son who will _never_ succeed me. I cast him into the fire!" He hurled that scroll into the flames as he'd done the first, feeling excitement course through his veins as the blaze accepted the gift.

He turned back to the portrait. "All that you hold dear in this world is cast into the fire." He curled his tongue, and with a snarl he spit at the drawing, a single drop landing just below the youthful face's eye.

"I see your tears, Iroh. I see your suffering, and it pleases me. You have witnessed all that you love destroyed. And now, I destroy you as well. I cast _you_ into the fire!"

He removed the stones, rolling and binding the scroll, and with a mighty heave throwing it to the same fate as the other two. The flames roared in answer, devouring the simple paper with a savage glee as he watched, panting.

It was all symbolic. The rational part of his mind that still remained somehow knew this. And yet the part that had been drunk on the power and prestige and respect that had been denied him for over a decade entertained the thought that his brother's spirit would break just as easily, and that after so long he would finally know all that Ozai himself had endured. The tables would be turned at last.

"You are dead to me," he murmured. "So it will be at the end of this war."

He smiled his widest, and most cruel.

_At the end of all things._

TO BE CONTINUED...


	16. Road to Battle

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 16: Road to Battle

* * *

Zha fastened the sash to his uniform as he made his way down the corridor to the general's chambers, in the heart of the outpost on the capital's western border, mind full of dread and knees shaking, and vaguely wondering if he'd succeeded in offending all the wrong people and was now going to be executed because the military had to blame _somebody_ for the loss of Omashu.

He stood before the ornately carved door, taking in a psyching breath and puffing the hair from his face before he lifted a hand to the bronze knocker. He'd barely touched it before he heard the man's voice command from inside.

"Come in."

He swallowed thickly, pushing the door open and stepping into a rather luxurious stateroom that smelled faintly of a sweet, smoky incense that made his head swim slightly. It was warm, almost uncomfortably so, the air heavy and oppressive in a way that made him feel closed in despite the spacious room. He looked around warily, breath catching at the funereal clang of the door closing behind him.

"S-Sir?" he called out into the dead silence, almost startled at his own voice.

"Right this way."

He followed the voice, stopping in the doorway of the even larger bedchamber, letting out a tight breath. The man was perched on his bed, silhouetted through the sheer canopy curtains. He was slowly brushing out his long hair, which draped gracefully over his thin shoulders. His profile was sharp as ever, regal and aquiline.

Zha took a psyching breath, bowing low. "You...summoned me, General Chiang. It seemed urgent."

He put down the brush, rising from the bed and using a simple leather band to pull his hair back into a single knotted tail. "Yes. It is. But not so serious that we require formalities." He gestured to the seat in front of his vanity. "Please, do relax for a bit."

Zha took the seat, reminded immediately of how much he hated mirrors as his own reflection stared nervously back at him, framed by a carving of entwined mahogany dragons. He watched as the man picked up an ornately carved jade jar from the dresser, removing the lid to reveal a black paste inside. He then took a slender ivory pipe with a jade mouthpiece, and began to scoop some of the paste into the bowl of the pipe with an ivory spoon.

"The reason I summoned you here is to do with a matter of great national importance. I've analyzed all the reports from Omashu, and I found something...interesting...in the one you submitted."

Zha gulped as the general capped the jar, averting his eyes from the mirror. _Here it comes_...

A slender hand rested on his shoulder. "The man who lead the enemy charge against the main gate... He introduced himself to you, did he not?"

Zha nodded quickly, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "About that...I take full responsibility for my failure on the battlefield and the resulting loss and--"

"Relax, Zha, That isn't what you're here for." He smiled thinly. "You are a wall guardsman, are you not?"

Zha nodded. "Yes. C-Captain, actually."

Chiang turned to what looked like a small lantern, adjusting the wick and using a candle to light it. "And...what is the average lifespan of a wall guardsman in the field?"

He closed his eyes. "O-One month."

The man took the pipe, holding the bowl above the the opening in the lantern for a bit, then raising it to his lips for a long, deep drag. "And...how long have you been a wall guardsman?" he asked, closing his eyes and letting out that breath slowly.

Zha barely comprehended the question as the scent of the smoke filled his nose. Sweet and earthy, blurring his senses with a warm, gentle rush. It took him a full minute to remember he'd been spoken to. "Five years...Sir..."

That hand returned to his shoulder, slender fingers stroking along his collar. "It is a shame to execute such a prized soldier to avenge a defeat that was already assured." He took another drag on the pipe, letting it out in another cloud of fragrant smoke. "I have...other plans for you."

A second breath of it calmed the race of Zha's heart, made the warmth of the hand on his shoulder seem to leech into the rest of his body. A soft groan purred in the back of his throat, and he opened his eyes just enough to see his reflection in the mirror, the light from the torches seeming to sparkle around him. Chiang stood behind him, hand tracing the side of his neck gently.

"The man at the gate... What was his name?"

Zha felt his eyes drift closed of their own accord, the words leaving his lips before he had a chance to think. "Shen... Shen Lei..."

He opened them again, long enough to see the man smiling broadly for a moment, before his face melted into a more severe look. Zha had not noticed just how long and pointed his nose was before that moment.

"No doubt Prince Zuko and his rebels are planning their final attack already. They do not have much time before the Comet arrives."

Zha nodded, only half hearing him. Barely feeling it as he pulled out the band holding his topknot, letting his hair fall down over his back. He watched in the mirror as the man softly combed through those strands, though all he felt was relaxing warmth flow through his body, making every muscle unwind.

"I want you to find this man," he heard Chiang say somewhere in the black haze above him, as he could no longer see the man's face for some reason. Likely because it took too much effort to look above him. "And bring him to me."

All he could manage in answer was a noncommittal sound of acknowledgement, fighting to move sluggish limbs that didn't seem to want to cooperate with his barely-there mind. It was a feeling that was altogether unpleasant, though for the life of him he couldn't come up with a good reason why. Just a nagging feeling that something was wrong. But it went faint and nearly unnoticed underneath that soothing veil of sensation.

"He and I have some...unfinished business to settle." That hand slid down toward his chest again, slipping under the collar of his uniform, fingertips stroking the soft skin there. Zha nodded, powerless to do anything else, really, as thinking was not very high on his list of priorities when he felt like this.

"Can you handle that?"

He nodded absently, trying to lift his head. Chiang's fingers retreated back to his shoulder, playing with a single tendril of his hair.

"You should go back to the barracks, perhaps."

The young man struggled to stand, weavy on his feet and grabbing the edge of the vanity for support. "Y-Yeah. I guess..."

Chiang smiled again, leading him carefully to the door. "Goodnight, soldier. And...good hunting."

He had no idea how he made it back to his own bed. Or even how he got his uniform off before he climbed into it. But as he laid down on the pillow, curled up beneath the covers, his body finally caught up with his already sleeping mind.

Tomorrow was another day. He would deal with it in the morning.

* * *

The ground was sharp and craggy beneath his feet and hands as he scaled the rocky slope, the sky above spanngled with stars and the air around him threateningly warm. A strong hint of brimstone hung on the hot breeze, making his lungs burn ever so slightly.

This was, of course, to be expected when scaling the slope of a volcano.

He grinned through the smoke and falling ash, up to where the ground disappeared into the swirling clouds, stained red with the blood of a dying sun. What he sought was there, at the summit of the Dragon's home.

He came upon it in short order. A magnificent structure of red marble that seemed to rise from the rock itself. The roof was covered in gleaming ruby scales, the skin of a dragon slain long ago. And inside, the glow of the mountain's power beckoned. He stepped in, up to the railing in the temple's atrium.

The huge circle cut in the floor revealed the dragon's boiling fury, as lava tossed and roiled before him. It was here that he would appeal to the Dragon, as previous Fire Lords had done in times of strife, for aid in victory.

The Dragon always answered, of course. But which side He aided was entirely up to Him. And only the most arrogant and foolish of men would assume that such a creature was bound by the call of a mere mortal. But in this case, Ozai thought, there was no way the Dragon couldn't pick his side against that of his traitorous son and brother, who were seeking even now to destroy all the splendor and prosperity their people had enjoyed for the last century.

He stepped back, kneeling before the lava and grinning. The end would be swift, he thought. For both of them.

* * *

"So..." Zuko murmured as he served himself a bowl warm cabbage stew. "Shen's group and Sokka and Toph have already headed out to Mount Wolong for the fireworks. We set sail for the capital at dawn."

Mai sipped from the edge of her bowl, frowning. "Looks like everything's going according to plan, then."

He nodded, murmuring after a pause. "You look distinctly unhappy about this."

She snorted. "Zuko...this is war, not a Fire Festival. There isn't a whole lot to be happy about."

"Obviously. But I mean that you look like you think the plan is a bad idea."

She sighed. "It's not that. I mean what's going to happen afterward. Even if we win, good lord we're going to have one _hell_ of a mess to clean up. You know how Fire Nation politics works. Lots and lots of unhappy people who won't know what to do with themselves if they're not burning their enemies to the ground. You're going to have to channel that anger and frustration into something contructive if you don't want to be assassinated before Fall. And when the people you're governing have gotten used to _de_struction..."

He smiled thinly. "I think I may have that covered. But...something I wanted to ask you." He put the bowl down for a moment. "What made you turn against my sister, and then join _my_ side?"

Mai grinned bitterly. "I got sick of her. I got tired of being a pawn in her little games, and I've been tired of war ever since my Royal Fire Academy days. It was all anyone talked about, and it was stupid and bored me to death." She made a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a snort. "You know me, how I always complained that nothing ever happens. Well let's just say...I'm in the mood to kick a little ass."

Zuko took another spoonful of stew, unable to hide his own grin. "So...what are you planning to do after this is over? Provided you're still alive."

She shrugged. "Dunno, really. I'd be all up for politics if I didn't have to play Mrs. Nice Government Wife, and could instead tell those warmongering ministers and advisors where to shove their ceremonial _dao_."

He nearly choked on his stew, stifling a laugh. "I think the New World Order could certainly use someone like that."

She smirked. "Well until we have a New World Order for me to proudly serve, you just tell me who to throw the sharp things at and everybody's happy."

* * *

The boats had been beached before first light, leaving the men to navigate the dangerous southwestern slopes of the Sleeping Dragon. The remains of ancient lava flows alternated between blocky and smooth, and chips of obsidian glinted in the waning moonlight. It would take at least a week for Zuko's main forces to reach the capital, but Shen was certain that the Water Tribes were going to give them a bit of a hand with the travel time.

Right now, they had a task at hand.

Toph clambered ahead of them, barefoot, using her unique abilities to feel throughg the ground where they needed to put the explosives. Rather than use a noisy wagon that could be heard for miles on this rocky landscape, his men hefted the barrels of dried blasting jelly one by one. They were surprisingly light, he guessed because the moisture had evaporated.

"She found a charge point," Lao relayed from ahead of him. "Further north of here. Said it's going to require two barrels."

He nodded, handing his friend the one he'd been carrying. "Take this one. I'll go back the boats for more." Lao hefted it from him, tucking it under is arm and starting back up the mountain.

Shen made his way back down the slope, clinging to a barely visible lava trail on his way back toward the boat. As much as he liked and respected the banished prince to whom he now owed his loyalty, he couldn't help imagining there was a rather good chance the boy was thinking a little too big. But he also knew he was right.

While he still occasionally thought of his men as the company they used to be, they were now merely a couple of platoons; he'd lost many over the years. Not just at the siege itself, but through starvation, hypothermia, and even madness down in the tunnels beneath Ba Sing Se. And the rest of them risked death themselves to give their comrades a proper funeral in the woods of the city's outskirts.

He wondered just how many more pyres he would be lighting before this ordeal was over.

A scrape on the rocks above and behind him caught his attention, and he whipped around toward it, squinting into the night. "Who's there?"

No answer.

He blazed his palm, holding it out into the night. In time to see a dark, slim figure dive behind a boulder high up on the slope. He quickly scaled the trail toward it. "Who are you!" he demanded, the fire on his fist dancing threateningly.

Nothing.

He continued up the ancient lava flow, mind whirling with the thought that all of Zuko's plans were about to do the dead man's float. He barely heard the whistling sound before him, not until he felt a slight pinch at the base of his collar.

He slapped at it with his hand, pulling a tiny dart from the skin. He knew the shape of it immediately. A blowgun dart.

_Oh God_.

He opened his mouth to yell for his comrades, to alert them that they had company. But his body refused to obey. He did a slow, staggering fold to the earth, the fire fading from his hand and his vision starting to haze and swim. His knees met the rocky ground. Then his palms. He moaned with the effort of trying to get back up, but to no avail. His body collapsed like a sack of grain, his eyes slipping closed. Footsteps scraped down toward him. The hard toe of a boot nudged his shoulder.

The last thing he felt before silky dark oblivion consumed him, was someone lashing his wrists together.

* * *

"Mai?"

She turned around as she tucked the last of her knives into place, pulling on her long-sleeved outer robe. "They're ready, aren't they?"

Ty Lee nodded. Rather than her famous pink midriff circus outfit, the girl had donned a form-fitting maroon jumpsuit, the chest and joints of which were reinforced with thick braided cord. Her hair was still the same, at least, pulled up into a braided topknot with a magenta sash.

Mai swallowed a bit to hide her rather dry mouth.

"I'll be there in a minute."

Ty Lee nodded, looking at the ground.

"Are you okay?" Mai ventured.

Her friend forced a smile. "Of course. Aren't I always ready to whip tail?"

Mai shook her head. "Ready and okay aren't the same thing." She crossed the tent, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Be careful, okay? I...don't want to come back without you."

"I will." She sighed. "I just...have a really bad feeling that this will make Omashu look like a playground squabble."

"It probably will. She's going to be there, as if she'd let things get slow. Just watch your back and you ;ll be fine." But even she felt like she was trying to convince herself as much as Ty Lee.

The girl shivered. "I know. I just...don't want to see that much blood again for the rest of my life." She bit her lip, curling a hand in front of her mouth. "But I know I'll have to and I know I'll have to fight her and what if I choke and someone gets killed because of it and..."

Mai brought both hands to her shoulders, surprised at her own vehemence. "Stop it, it's okay. You don't have to fight her. If she gets near you again it'll be over my dead body, understand?" She gave her a reassuring squeeze.

Ty Lee blinked, looking up as though not having expected to hear such a thing. "...Mai?"

Their gazes locked, and in that moment Mai felt the horrible, gut-punching realization that they might indeed never see each other again clench her chest like a hit to the solar plexus. She raised a hand to her friends face, brushing the bangs from her eyes. Not that she hadn't thought about it before, more times than she knew was proper for a Fire Nation noblewoman, but now faced with the fact that this could very well be the end of the line... She guessed there wasn't much harm in it if they both died in the blast. And if they lied, well...things would be awkward. But at least she could say it wasn't a deep, guilty secret any longer.

She closed her eyes, leaning diwn and tilting her face until those warm, slightly parted lips met her own.

It felt like...a really good cup of tea, or a thick fuzzy blanket on a winter's morning. Warm and sweet, almost tangible in the way it wrapped around them both. Though frozen at first, she felt the pliant give of those lips and slim fingers smooth through her now short hair. Until a mutual need for air made them part, breathless and looking at each other in stunned, panting silence.

The other girl finally rested a shaky hand on her face. "God, don't do this to me."

Mai felt her stomach fill with yellowjackets. "I'm...I'm sorry. I felt like I had to. Before we..."

Ty Lee shook her head, the corners of her eyes glistening. "Don't you dare leave me with this and then go get yourself killed, you hear me? You do and so help me I'll hold a séance just to kick your ass."

Mai wanted to laugh out loud at her being so adorably Ty Lee-ish, but restrained herself to smiling instead. "I won't, I promise."

Ty Lee gave her a tight hug, before they turned for the ships. "Please...say you'll do that again when we get home?"

Mai chuckled, grinning slightly. "That and more."

She flushed brightly, taking her hand. "Then...let's go, shall we?"

Mai nodded, following her toward the waiting ship.

* * *

Aang rose finally from his meditation stance, closing up his glider and slinging it over his shoulder. It was almost dawn now, and the ships were ready to sail. He would be going with the main forces, meeting Shen and his crew for the eruption when it was time. But as he turned to head out of the tent, he gasped, startled at a dark figure in the opening until he realized it was Zuko.

"Oh, hey. We're ready to shove off?"

"Yeah," the boy nodded. "There's just...one very big favor I need from you before we leave."

"Besides making sure the volcano doesn't destroy the city?"

Zuko swallowed thickly. "This is...possibly even more important than that."

Aang did not like the sound of that, and the first tendrils of icy dread crept across his gut. "W-What is it?"

The young man reached into his tunic, pulling out a wooden scroll case. "This. I need you to keep it safe for me. Should the unthinkable happen and I don't return to you after the battle, these are all of the immediate matters of state that I want settled, and how they must be addressed." He let out a breath. "Without me, the future of the Fire Nation, and the world, rests in your hands."

Aang felt a shiver run down his back. "But...why wouldn't you be returning with us? You're still coming to the battle, aren't you? We'll have your back!"

Zuko shook his head. "My fight is different, Aang. And something I need to do alone."

It took a full minute for those words to click, but when they finally did, he felt his stomach lodge itself in his throat. His hand flew to his mouth with a sharp, shaky gasp. "Zuko...Zuko, you're not... You _can't_... I'm supposed to..."

He stepped into the tent, only his eyes visible like twin amber coals. "Destiny is indeed fixed. But sometimes, not in the way we think. Your duty is to bring balance to the world, but not through war. It's not right or fair to put that kind of burden on the shoulders of a child in the first place. It wasn't fair a hundred years ago, and it's not fair now. Which is one reason I'm taking that burden from you.

"Fire Lord Ozai must die in order for there to be any hope of true peace. But not by your hand. It's my job to get rid of the man who is causing the disruption in the first place, as it's the only way that I can redeem myself in my people's eyes, and regain both my country and my crown. Your time will come after the fight, to heal the wounds of this world once the war is ended. And there will be much to heal. _That_ is what restoring the balance, and keeping it, really is. The Avatar's role is that of a peacekeeper and a spiritual guide. Not a dealer of death.

"But if I don't survive, I need you to ensure these tasks are carried out, so that the Fire Nation does not fall back into the clutches of the power-hungry vultures circling its carcass."

Aang felt his eyes sting as Zuko pressed the scroll case into his hands, then settled his own on Aang's shoulders as he knelt before him.

"There are three things I need you to promise me."

He nodded, biting back a whimper.

"First, you must swear not to follow me. You must swear that you will stick to the war plan, regardless of what happens to me. Second, you must swear that you will not breathe a word of this to anybody, so that they can stop or help me."

Aang nodded again, sucking in a shuddery breath.

"And lastly, if I don't return..." he swallowed hard, looking at the ground for a moment before meeting Aang's eyes. "...Take care of her for me."

He nodded slowly, feeling his heart crack at Zuko's sad but relieved smile. The boy stood back up, bowing before him. "Thank you," he said. "Good luck...and godspeed."

Time seemed to stand still for that instant, and Aang felt a funereal heaviness in the air, the distinct feeling that this was the last he would see of his friend and mentor. And it was more than he could stand. The first of many tears escaped over his cheeks as Zuko rose to his feet, turning and vanishing into the breaking dawn.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	17. Fire In the Sky

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 17: Fire In the Sky

* * *

Haru stood waiting among the great statues, dark eyes scanning the dusky horizon for the smoke signal that would herald the other division's attack march. Both of them had to attack their respective city flanks at about the same time if it was going to work.

Footsteps scraped the rock behind him, and he turned to meet his father with a bow. "We're ready to go anytime," he said. "Just waiting for the all clear from Fong's side."

Tyroh nodded, silent for a moment before his face melted into a frown. Haru cocked his head, concern creasing his brow. "What is it, Father?"

"Nothing, I just...didn't think this would ever be a reality. We're so close to the end, and we actually have a fair chance of winning."

"You sound like you think that's bad."

Tyroh shook his head. "I don't. It's just...shocking, I guess. Like a part of me can't believe it's real."

Haru sighed. "I guess so, yeah. Sorta like expecting there to be some kind of trap sprung when we least expect it."

"I doubt that will happen, but even if it does, the best we can do is just be prepared to change strategy on very short notice." He smiled. "But whatever happens, I'm proud of you. Should you ever have any...your children will come to remember this day."

Haru smiled back, before turning to the horizon. Far in the distance, he saw it. A tiny creep of movement, a small white finger against the darkening sky.

"That's it!" he said, turning to his fellow soldiers. "There's the signal! Let's go!"

With a rush of movement, the men took their posts and stances, starting to surge forward in unison. The statues' joints groaned their protest as they followed their masters, the ground shaking beneath their feet with every step.

Sweat beaded Haru's brow as he pressed on with the others. This was it. This was the very moment they had all been mentally holding their breaths for. The day was theirs, and they were going to take it.

The northern wall of the city loomed in the distance, guard towers stabbing into the sky like a row of pointed teeth. One by one, the windows began to light up, tiny dark figures scrambling frantically among the flames. He signaled to the men behind him.

"They've spotted us! Prepare to engage!"

He'd barely uttered the words before a volley of arrows rained down from night sky. The groans of those first to fall made him wince, but he quickly ordered them to march onward. The sooner they cleared the archers' scope, the better.

The rocky ground was hardly forgiving, and he along with the rest of the troops fought to keep behind the stone soldiers. It wasn't long before he heard the groan and whine of iron hinges ahead of him, and risked a peek from behind his guardian's shoulder.

The gates were swinging open, revealing the front line of full-armored soldiers at the ready, their skull-like helmets glaring coldly out at them.

_This is about to get ugly..._

They charged. Fists aflame, weapons flailing, yet voices silent as death itself.

Haru braced himself, signaling his fellow soldiers to get into formation. The golems in front of them obeyed, shields at the ready, spears and swords bristling out of the impenetrable wall, marching forward to meet the oncoming line.

The flanks would be hit the hardest, he knew. They were the most difficult to defend due to marching formation. Much as he hated the breaking eggs for an omelette approach, it was the intention of the phalanx formation that the flank soldiers would buy the more heavily protected center time to reach the target. He could only hope those soldiers and their families might forgive him later.

The stone soldiers closed in tight as they neared the gate, the sounds of screaming and dying men making his stomach churn as he hacked his way through the enemy lines with the great arms of his golem. He tried not to pay attention to the faces of the horrified soldiers he was slicing into. Only the sea of defenders before him.

Blood spattered his cheek as the gate loomed closer, and he felt a sickening heaviness in his throat. If they could just punch through the line and make it through the portal...

What he wouldn't give to have the Avatar's little friend on his side right now. But that wasn't an option, so he and his ranks and their grit would have to do. He yelled over his shoulder to the flanks, desperate to hold everyone together.

"Lateral defense! I need as many of you as I can get beyond the gate!"

The flanks responded in kind, turning the golem soldiers sideways to defend against the oncoming lines. Not having time to observe the result, he turned back to his own task just in time to cut down an infantryman whose sword came uncomfortably close to his neck.

He'd barely realized the speed of their advance before the mouth of the gate swallowed them like a shark would its dinner, and the vast battlefield between the outer wall and main gate spreading out before them, blanketed with enemy troops like an especially foul red carpet.

They didn't have to break through the second wall necessarily, he knew. They just had to keep the defending troops occupied and their forces divided so the Water Tribes could punch into the harbor. The trick was going to be staying alive long enough to accomplish the task, even with indestructible granite puppets at their disposal. Fortunately, Zuko had the forethought to attack at dusk, when the Firebenders' powers would be at their weakest, the Waterbenders' at their strongest, and the Earthbenders unaffected.

_But we're going to do it_, he mused. _We've come this far. If we're going to die anyway, we're going to do it fighting!_

* * *

Katara stood at the forward deck of Hakoda's warship, wind whipping through her hair and clothes as she looked on toward the darkening horizon. Twilight and the coast were both not far away, and there was hardly much to do before then except wait and and rehearse the plan in her mind and be terrified of everything that could possibly go wrong.

Zuko hadn't seen them off like she'd expected. Part of her was angry at him, and yet another part was relieved that he hadn't made the very possible last farewell even harder by being there. By embracing her and smiling that dorky boyish grin that never stopped her from seeing how scared witless he was on the inside.

She doubted she would've been able to board the ship if he had.

"Hey Princess."

She turned around, pulling the wolfskin cloak tighter about her shoulders against a sudden chill. "...Hey dad." A weak smile forced itself onto her lips. "Ready?"

He sighed. "Ready as I can ever be. That's a funny thing about war; you're never as ready as you think you are. But...so far things have been going according to plan. And that's pretty much all we can ask for at this point." He frowned. "What's on your mind? Besides the obvious."

"Mmm." She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I've been thinking...and I'm almost more afraid of the aftermath than I am of the fight. Like if I survive and...and nobody else does..."

He rested a thick hand on her shoulder. "Believe me, hon, you aren't alone. It's an almost universal fear of any soldier, how to rebuild your life afterward. Especially when you've lost everything. Fighting gives you a sense of purpose, and when the war is over and all you have around you are your destroyed home and dead friends... It's terrifying. I know. It's been on my mind ever since I heard what happened to our people.

"And...that's war. Losing the people you love is never something you want to face. I've been scared out of my mind for that, for you and Sokka and Gran-Gran and Bato and everyone I've ever called friend or family, since this whole thing started. But what calms me down and keeps me focused is the thought of what you would want me to do if the unthinkable happened."

She swallowed thickly, looking back at him. "I would _never_ want you to give up on your life just because I'm not in it."

"Exactly," he said, clapping her shoulder a bit. "Your mother wouldn't have wanted that, either." He smiled. "It's not how and when we die that matters, Katara. It's what we make of the life we're given."

She turned back to the horizon, squinting into the darkening distance for a moment before lifting the spyglass to her eye.

There was the shoreline and the capital city's harbor. Rocky and jagged and threatening as ever, with the unmistakeable glow on the fringes that told her the North and South Divisions had started the party already.

"It's time," she murmured. "Here goes the neighborhood."

He nodded. "I'll alert Chief Arnook to send the flares and coordinate." He gave her a last worried smile before turning toward midship. "Go knock 'em senseless, Princess."

She smiled back, before turning to the horizon and striking her stance. The same one she'd used for the wave on the Northern Air Temple blockade. Arms spread, palms up, one leg bent with the other stretched out behind her in a lunge. At least this time, she mused, she was going to have help. Lots of it.

The wind began to whip harder as the flare shot off behind her, and she started to push the water back and up under the boat with a fierce concentration. To the sides of their vessel, she knew, her fellow Waterbenders were doing the same. Calling the sea and the waves into a towering wall of water beneath them. Racing straight for the unsuspecting harbor.

_Please. Don't let them know what hit them_.

* * *

Going with Sokka's smaller division hadn't been their first choice, but Mai had surmised they would be far more useful there than anywhere else. And so as the barrels of solidified blasting jelly were finally in place and the rest of the men were awaiting Aang's signal to let all hell break loose, and the rebels and Kyoshi Warriors for the dreaded ballons to appear so they could use Sokka's new weapons, she and Ty Lee had placed themselves on one of the higher outcroppings as lookouts for either event.

"So how do you think it's gonna go down?"

Mai pursed her lips. "Once the Water Tribes start getting their kill on, the guys below us will detonate the charges and let the mountain have at them. The rest of them will either be shooting at balloons or joining the melee, depending on whether that airborne death squad bothers showing up."

"You think they will?"

She shrugged. "They'd be stupid not to. As far as they know, we're just waiting to be carpet-bombed to hell."

Ty Lee swallowed hard. "Where do you suppose...she...is?"

"No idea. But hopefully in pieces by the time this ordeal is over."

"Now...is that any way to talk about an old friend?"

Both girls whirled around, weapons and stances at the ready, though they already knew the speaker. Mai snorted. "Depends on your definition of friend. How the hell did you know we were here?"

Azula smirked as she descended the slope toward them, buffing her nails. "Come on, Mai. You should know the answer to that already."

Mai let three blades slide from each holster, gripping them between her fingers. "I suppose you're here to finish what you started in that guard tower?"

"You always did have a thing for stating the blindingly obvious. What else would you expect me to do with a pair of traitors?" At those words, a ball of blue flame appeared between her flingers.

Mai stepped instinctively in front of Ty Lee, crossing her arms at the ready. "I was hoping for 'screw off and die', but I guess if I want something done around here..."

Azula's features contorted into a scowl. "You don't have the stomach for it."

Mai grinned slightly, loosing all six knives in a tight cross that Azula barely managed to dodge, one of them slicing across her cheek in an angry red line, and another coming dangerously close to her neck. The scowl deepened into a snarl, and she answered with swath of blue flame headed straight for both their heads.

Ty Lee pushed Mai to the ground, wincing at the too-close heat of the flames, and barely having enough time to roll out of the way and back to her feet before another blast blackened the ground where their heads had been.

"You realize how foolish this is, right?" Azula hissed, blazing both fists as they circled each other like a group of jackals. "You could be sharing in our imminent victory instead of dying like this."

Mai pulled out another set of knives, her mouth hardening below her steely gaze. "I'm going to die anyway. And I'd prefer to do it fighting you than serving you."

Azula brought her fists forward, voice cold despite her obvious rising anger. "Fine. I'll gladly give you what you seek..."

* * *

"We're ready, Sir. The charges are placed. All we need is the Avatar's signal, and we can let the good times roll."

Lao sighed, a slow and calming breath. "Good. Where's Shen?"

"I...don't know, Sir. I haven't seen him since we were planting the last of the barrels."

He tried to forcibly slow down the pulse of dread in his veins. As much as his first instinct was to put this more than capable subordinate in charge and go find his friend, he knew that was foolhardy and possibly dangerous. Something even Shen himself would've advised against. There was no second chance at this. They had to get it right, no matter who they lost along the way.

"We'll search for him when we can. Right now we--"

"Lao!"

He turned to see one of the privates scurrying up the cliff face, pointing frantically to the eastern sky. "We have company! The air fleet is moving in!"

_Time to see if that kid's glorified blowdarts are worth it_.

"Get the gun troops ready! On the double!"

"Yes, Sir!" The boy saluted, before scrambling off to carry out the order. Lao turned to the other one.

"Get the fuses ready. As soon as the Avatar's signal appears, light them and run for the evacuation paths. I'll meet you down the slope."

The boy looked about to protest, but a severe look silenced him. "Y-Yes, Sir. What...should we do if you don't show up?"

"The same thing you would do if I did. Fight like hell."

He nodded, saluting and going off to relay the task to his comrades, leaving Lao standing alone on the lookout point.

He could hold off as long as the signal went up. Once the attack was launched and everyone had their orders, it would be safe to go find Shen and quell the storm already brewing in the pit of his stomach. That tossed sea of anxiety that something very bad had happened, and it was already much too late.

As much as he'd prepared himself for such a day, it did not make it any easier when faced with the possibility that it was finally here. It felt like icy claws burrowing into his chest and trying mercilessly to rip out his heart. For a man who had never before prayed for anything in his life, in that moment he was ready to beg spirits he wasn't sure existed anymore that he was worrying over nothing.

The familiar whistling sound of wind over the rocks made him look up, in time to see a small figure coming from the northern sky, closer and closer as he squinted into the settling darkness. As he watched the approach, it suddenly loosed a plume of flame to each side, bright enough that he could easily see despite the distance.

Just the signal he'd been waiting for.

He put both fists to his sides and blazed his palms in relay. "The Avatar is here! Light the fuses!"

They scrambled to action below him, and he surveyed the result for a few minutes before turning and ruinning down one of the evacuation trails, toward the last spot he'd seen Shen.

All his life, he'd heard the tales of how last words were something meaningful, to be treasured in memory and possibly etched on an honor marker somewhere. At least all the ones he'd been told about were profound and heartbreaking. But this... '_I'll go back to the boats for more._' How was anybody supposed to treasure and honor a line like that?

He vaguely wondered if his own last words would turn out to be so unremarkable. A fleeting thought before he shook his head, willing the gnawing sensation back down to the pit of dread where his stomach had been.

* * *

The ground was not forgiving. At all.

He bit his lip as the stones cut into his hands, his own weight threatening to tear the jagged edges right through his fingers. But at least most of his bigger worries were over. Aang had the orders, and whether he himself lived or died, things would be taken care of. All he had to do was win.

He gazed out over the edge of the slope to the chaotic plane below. The gun troops lifting their weapons, Shen's men lighting the fuses, the North and South Divisions of Haru's and Bumi's men pushing on the gates. And in the distance, the Water Tribe warships.

Though he knew his task was further up the mountain, he stayed, perched there and watching the scene unfold.

The gun troops loosed the first volley of fire at the approaching line of war balloons, and as Sokka had designed, the pointed heads of the projectiles pierced the canopies easily. A scramble of movement blurred through the smoke as their partners reloaded and they aimed for a second shot.

He felt it beneath his feet, then. A low, rumbling shake stirring the rocks. And as he looked further up from the gun troops, he saw the reason. The barrels had exploded within split seconds of each other, and as he watched, mesmerized by the sheer terror of knowing there were people down there, the weakened slope began to collapse in a colossal landslide of dust and deafening noise.

The mouth of Hell itself had opened.

A roar that shook his soul to its very foundations echoed through the night as the eastern face of the mountain exploded in a fiery cloud of ash and flinging lava. Rivers of it crept down the slope as burning clouds raced along the flank, and for a moment he stopped and asked himself just what the bloody hell he'd done.

His answer came as he glanced toward the coast. To the giant swell of ocean bearing the Water Tribe warships like a line of wide-spaced teeth. And as he watched in paralyzed horror, the wall of roiling fury slammed into and down upon the defenseless and scattering harbor like a backhand from _Jiaolong_ himself. The piers shattered like matchsticks, the wave itself running the boats aground. The soldiers aboard leapt to the earth to disembark, charging at his horrified countrymen without mercy. He looked away with a wince, and back up the seemingly endless trail ahead of him.

It felt like hours. Long, noisy, painful, ash-filled hours before he clambered over the last landing to the summit, and the red marble building loomed before him. This was it. This was his time, his moment.

He sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly before stepping inside.

It was dark and quiet, save for the red glow of the boiling lake in the center of the shrine's main chamber, illuminating the lone figure standing at the railing.

"So...you've finally come."

Zuko steeled his gaze, squaring his jaw. "Yes. This time, it really is the end of the line for you...Ozai."

He whipped around, eyes wide. "_You_."

Zuko didn't answer.

"Where is the Avatar!"

"He has more pressing business. I'm here to deal with you. I'm sorry if you find that disappointing."

His shocked face melted into a grin. "On the contrary. The chance to kill my traitorous spawn will be nothing less than satisfying. You chose your death on this mountain. Are you prepared?"

Zuko nodded. "As long as I take you down with me."

He scowled again. "Insolent child. Suffering has not been as effective a teacher as I'd hoped." He pulled off his outer robe and tunic, carefully sliding into stance. "Perhaps death will do the trick."

Zuko pulled off his own tunic, casting his sword aside as well. "On the contrary. Suffering has been a greater teacher than you will ever know." He pulled in a deep breath, warming his chest, drawing the fading energy of the day into every available limb he could spare.

"Oh really?" Ozai mused, blazing his fists and baring his teeth. "You're in for a rude awakening, boy. You haven't yet _begun_ to suffer."

Zuko did not answer, save with a blazing fist of his own.

* * *

The first thing he felt upon waking was pain.

A biting, stinging pain that centered at his wrists. Not particularly unbearable, but just uncomfortable enough. It was still dark, but he guessed that was because he hadn't opened his eyes yet. He struggled to do so, blinking and shaking his head to clear his bleary vision.

"Welcome back, Captain."

The voice was familiar. Smooth, yet still with the kind of edge that made him feel that things were not quite right. He looked up toward it, once he was able to see, and surveyed his surroundings with mounting dread.

He was lashed to the wall by wrists and ankles with leather straps, the edges of which were serrated and capped with sharp steel corners. He'd been stripped to the waist, hair pulled from its topknot. The room itself was large and dark and bare, with a wooden table at the far end, lit by dimmed torches and pervaded by the stench of sweat and long-dried blood. On it sat a small lamp, a jade-tipped pipe, and an ornate porcelain jar.

In front of table stood the speaker. Tall and thin, almost frail-looking under his ceremonial robes, long hair pulled into an immaculate partial topknot. He smiled, eyes glittering like a serpent's. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

He gasped, barely recognizing the face at first, but those eyes gave it away immediately. His chest clenched like a fist upon his heart. "_You._"

"Yes. I'm glad that you recognize me. It would have been most disappointing otherwise."

"What are you doing, Chiang?" he spat. "What's this about?"

Chiang chuckled. "So, you're good with names, but poor with details. No matter, you'll be remembering them all very soon." He beckoned to the darkest corner of the room. "You've done well, my boy. It's time to reap your reward."

Shen looked up with a thick swallow as a figure he hadn't noticed before stepped from the shadows, the sight enough to make his heart stop for a moment. He was short, compact, and muscular, hair pulled up tightly. His gaze was as cold as the stone floor beneath his feet, and in his hand was a small, ceremonial dagger, the point glinting like a deadly star.

"Oh my God..." Shen murmured, hoarse with shock. "Zha... Zha, what are you doing?"

The boy didn't answer, merely stared him down with a poisonous contempt drawn straight from the depths of Hell.

Chiang laughed under his breath. "Very simple, Captain. He's reclaiming his family's honor." His eyes shone accusingly above a predatory grin. "By punishing the man who took it from him."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	18. Sins of the Father

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 18: Sins of the Father

* * *

The air was stuffy and oppressive, heavy with tension. Yet at the same time chaotic with swirling heat and smoke from the fireblasts hurtling through it. Zuko tried not to concentrate on his pounding pulse, aching muscles, or the sweat burning his eyes as he leapt and dodged through the streams and whips of dancing flame. So far, he was focused on not getting hit, watching Ozai's erratic, patternless attack and looking for any possible opening to throw something effective.

Luck had not found him yet.

He dropped from a high outcropping just in time to avoid a lightning blast that sent a rain of rock fragments down on him as he rolled across the ground. Behind him, the red glow of the roiling lava lake made Ozai's red-rimmed silhouette appear even more intimidating.

"So you come to face me, boy, but you won't even attack me? Is the world really this desperate?"

Zuko rose to his feet, taking a defensive stance, hands flexing warily. He refused to dignify the statement with a response, ignoring the words and instead studying the man's posture. The tension in his arms, his face. The way his weight was unevenly placed on each foot. All the signs of waning focus and increasing frustration. All he had to do was remain calm, and wait for an exploitable mistake. From the look in Ozai's eyes, that wait would not be long.

He backed up as far as he could, one of the stone columns solidly behind him. To the left and right of the railing at the edge of the lake, the rocky walls ascended in natural ramps to a narrow walkway above the deadly pit. A possible escape route if he needed recovery time, he reasoned.

"Tell me, boy. What really brought you here in the Avatar's place? Are you foolishly trying to protect him? Or are you even more foolishly trying to prove yourself worthy of the throne?"

Zuko turned so he could retreat further, toward the railing now. "Because I was meant to. It's that simple."

"You buy into that destiny rubbish as much your uncle. I'm not surprised you followed his treacherous footsteps in the end."

Zuko ducked another fireblast, his voice still unusually calm. "I'd have been a traitor no matter which path I chose. But I can live with betraying my country. I can't with betraying myself."

Ozai's eyes flared as he brought his hands together. "Then I think it's obvious which of us the Dragon has chosen."

He rolled to the side, narrowly escaping another wave of flame before leaping onto the rocky ledge in back of him. Ozai swept his arm wide, a large whip of flame conjuring in his palm and flinging toward Zuko's perch.

He froze perfectly still for that split second, eyes cold and calm, focused only on the flame itself and the energy flowing through it. He took a quick breath, and his hand shot forward as the flames approached. The energy wrapped itself around his wrist like an invisible strap, the end of the fire whip obediently caught in his palm.

Ozai's eyes widened in shock. Zuko did not waste a moment, raising his hand and cracking the whip in a wave back toward its wielder.

Ozai let go of his end, scrambling out of the way. "So...now you decide to fight back. And like a coward at that. You miserable child."

Zuko separated the whip, quickly bending the flames into a pair of glowing chakrams hovering above each palm. But he did not speak, or dare to acknowledge the man's words in any way.

Ozai's expression darkened further, hoarse with anger. "You were born a disgrace. You will die a disgrace. And the Dragon will bury you."

Zuko raised one of the flaming chakrams, his voice an Arctic chill that not even the lake of fire behind him could melt. "Perhaps. But I'm taking you with me."

* * *

Shen wanted so badly to rub his eyes and clear away the vision before him, but the serrated straps binding his wrists to the iron rings in the wall forbade it. He could only stare in horrified surprise at the young man in front of him, holding the small dagger in his hand while his eyes shone like a serpent's.

"Shall we begin?" Chiang asked, steepling his fingers. "We can skip the introductions, seeing as we're all rather well acquainted."

"What the hell is this about, Chiang?" he spat.

The man clucked his tong disapprovingly. "Now is that any way to address your higher officer? That's _General_ Chiang to you."

Shen averted his gaze, not wanting to admit it but unable to keep from doing so. "You stopped being my superior a long time ago."

"Ah yes, of course. When you deserted your country to go live like a badgermole beneath enemy territory. Which is one of the many reasons you're here."

Shen glared at him again, but did not speak. No words would come, and even if they had, none would have gotten past the stewing block in his throat.

The man turned to Zha, resting a hand on his shoulder, spindly fingertips caressing the collar of his uniform in a way that made Shen's stomach turn. "It's you, really, who has suffered the most at the hands of this runaway. It's only fitting for you to exact his punishment, is it not?"

Zha nodded, fingering the hilt of the dagger. He stepped toward Shen, reaching out and resting the flat of the small blade against his shoulder. The metal was cold, and in any other setting it might have been a relief in the stuffiness of the room. But in this dark, tense prison, it sent a chill of fear down his spine.

"For abandoning your family..." Chiang declared, "...forsaking those of your flesh and your blood. So shall your flesh and blood be forfeit."

Shen winced in anticipation as the tiny blade sliced into his skin, and he bit back a howl as the pain registered immediately. Hot and fiery, like the sting of a particularly virulent insect. He felt the tremor course its way through his shoulders and back, making his palms and wrists sweat as the blade pulled free. He then felt the trickle of something warm and sticky dripping down his chest.

"You shall answer for each of your crimes in this manner," Chiang smirked. "One by one. With each one pulling you closer to a death that will always be too far away. You will live and suffer until the last trespass is paid for with your own blood. Only the most fitting of ends for the man who betrayed and turned against everyone in his life. Family. Friend. Country. Lord."

Shen raised his head, breathing hard, lip trembling as he looked into the glittering eyes of the young man with the knife. They were like twin icicles meeting his own. Cold and sharp and clear. Yet behind them, behind the hurt and resentment and vindicated pain, he could discern a different chaotic swirl of emotions. Disgust. Horror. Hesitation. Disbelief. Fear.

And as much as he wanted to shout a million apologies for everything he'd done, every mistake in his life he'd ever made, no words would make it past his lips. There were none he could say that didn't sound like a pathetic attempt to save his own skin.

Not that it mattered. In his mind, he knew it was done. He could only hope his list of crimes would not be too long.

* * *

He ducked the flying chakrams of fire, watching the young man's silhouette leap gracefully among the rocks, almost floating in the waves of heat rising through the chamber. He could not believe this. The Aatar himself had skipped out on him, leaving him to battle this worthless excuse for an opponent instead. The fight for the fate of the world between himself and the greatest disgrace his country had ever known to exist.

In a way, maybe it was for the best. A chance to prove who was really deserving of the crown.

He circled his arms, separating the energies around him into the familiar opposites, letting them crash back together and savoring the white-hot shock of pure power race from the base of his spine to the top of his skull, branching down his arms and flowing all the way to his fingertips. It hovered in the air for a moment as he directed it right for that cold, expressionless face staring back at him from across the chamber.

The young man shot his hand forward, catching the leading edge of the bolt, using his other hand to direct the energy down his arm, across his stomach, up the other arm. And just as quickly as the crackling blue jolt had left his fingertips, it was now flying right back at him.

Ozai ducked, letting it hit the rocks behind him. And in the brief flash of white that blinded his eyes as he hit the rocky ground face first, he saw the young, round face of his brother smile from the depths of long-buried memories.

He remembered the visits once they were older. How Zuko would run to him and he would swing the boy around while they both laughed like father and son ought to. How Zuko never laughed or played with him. How Ozai never wanted him to.

How it made him even more determined to punish the boy and thus punish his brother for having what he never did.

How he would clutch Azula's hand as they both watched, seething at that simple, human connection which they scorned with the deepest of hatred, yet wanted and hungered and thirsted for like a pair of starving nomads.

He looked up once his vision returned, seeing the young man before him, dark tunic rimmed red in the crimson glow of the fiery lake. That same round face staring back at him. Taunting. Laughing. Deriding.

_You took him. You took my son from me. You weakened him. Ruined him. Disgraced him. And so I took yours from you._

It wasn't enough. He had to defeat him. To claim the birthright he should've been given. To claim _everything_ he should've been given, but was denied because he hadn't the fortune to have been born first. But most of all, he had to punish him. For stealing all that was rightfully _his_.

With a sound that could've stripped the rod from a naval officer's spine, he raised his fists, loosing a fireblast that made the very rocks tremble under his feet. He watched as the man opposite him dove for the ground to avoid it.

Ozai spread his feet as the young man started to rise again, whipping a ribbon of flame around himself and flaring it with the force a couple barrels of blasting jelly might pack if detonated. The shockwave slammed into the young man, flinging him off his feet and back into the rocky wall with a yelp of pain.

He grinned, reducing the flame to a palm sized ball, watching with something resembling glee as the battered man peeled himself up off the ground, shoulders trembling with both effort and pain. His hair lay plastered to his face with sweat, covering his left eye. The right one was starting to lose its clarity, like a fogging mirror. His chest heaved, even his lips trembling.

Ozai laughed, towering over the hunched figure as he raised his hands in stance, summoning a pair of fireballs. He grabbed the boy by his collar, flinging him to the ground like a sack of grain. Planted a boot on the joint of his shoulder with a hard wrenching twist until he heard the crack of breaking bone and a scream of pain. He sneered down at him, spitting on his smudged face.

"Pathetic. What were you hoping to accomplish here? Haven't you taken enough from me?"

His only answer was a formless groan.

He scowled, rearing his foot back with a vicious kick that sent the boy rolling across the chamber. He tried feebly to raise himself up on his one good arm, choking violently, spots of red flying from his lips onto the ground. The sight made his heart flutter excitedly.

Ozai took his time approaching him. It wasn't like he was going anywhere.

"You will pay. For everything you did to scorn me, to disgrace and ruin me. You will pay. You will be the one defeated this time. You will be the one whose grave they spit upon for the next hundred years, you foolish...worthless..._disgrace!_"

He punctuated those last words with sharp, powerful kicks, each more savage than the last, until the boy rolled up to a stop in front of a pile of debris from one of the lightning bolts Ozai had thrown earlier.

This time, he did not get up.

Ozai grinned, standing over the sprawled body as the lake roiled behind him in answer, the sound itself like the murmuring of a long-forgotten beast. Great domes of lava swelled and burst, gurgling in anticipation.

_The Dragon has chosen..._

* * *

Somewhere between the repeated jolts of burning pain and the occasional drag of opium to keep said pain from knocking him unconscious, he lost track of time. He only counted it now in pulse, rough breathing, and moans of agony.

It was a neverending, almost ritualistic pattern. Chiang would declare some crime or another, most of which he didn't even understand because his mind refused to process anything beyond the wish for either death or more opium. Then the knife would plunge into him, tear a piece of skin away, and the hot flow of blood from the wound would remind him that he was still alive.

His back and chest were slick with it now. It ran down the legs of his breeches, dripping onto the floor in a steadily forming pool at each foot. It coated the knife and Zha's hands, soaking into the cuffs of his long-sleeved tunic. In all his years on the battlefield, he never imagined it was possible for a man to bleed so much and still be conscious.

"For the ultimate act of treason," Chiang declared. "For the willful murder of throne's rightful heir, the son of the great General Iroh. An act which cost the Fire Nation not only a member of the royal family, but the greatest military defeat in its history. For the blood of Prince Lu Ten, son of Prince Iroh, you will pay in your own blood."

Shen struggled to look up into Zha's face as he made the next cut. His expression was unreadable save for his eyes, which widened with horror and disgust.

"Please..." he heard himself whisper, voice hoarse and tired. "Please, Zha... That wasn't my choice..."

"Have I given you permission to speak?" Chiang snapped.

Shen glared, despite being unable to focus. "I don't need your permission to speak in my defense." He turned back to Zha. "It was an order... A threat. He would have kill--"

"You will keep your mouth shut if I have to shut it _for_ you," Chiang barked.

Shen finally looked square at him. "Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you? All this time, and you've never explained just what the _hell_ I or my family did to deserve it!..."

Chiang smiled, picking up the pipe and heating the bowl in the lamp's tiny flame. He handed it to Zha, who fitted the jade mouthpiece to Shen's lips with a trembling hand.

Shen shook his head away, not wanting his mind clouded anymore. "It was an order, you bastard! I was following orders!"

Zha swallowed thickly, looking between the two men as Chiang took the pipe back. "You were still committing treason, ordered or not."

For just a moment, Shen felt nothing, save the spark of blind white anger that leapt into his eyes as he shouted back in a cracking voice. "Defy a royal order or kill one of the royal family! No matter _what_ I did, it would have been treason!"

Zha's jaw went slack in horror, and he drew in a shaky breath, backing away from Shen, his knuckles turning white on the dagger's hilt. He scowled, his face pale and stricken, sweat beading at his brow. "What the hell are you talking about? A royal order to kill the Prince?..."

Shen's chest trembled as he fought to catch his breath enough to speak. "The order... It came from Ozai himself. To make sure that Prince Lu Ten and General Iroh fell in battle, however we had to. If not, my family as well as the families of everyone under my command would be arrested and executed as conspirators."

He looked back up at Zha, at that ashen face staring back at him in horrified shock, pleading in a small, desperate voice he no longer recognized. "I didn't even know you existed at the time. I was called back to the front lines before I even knew your mother was pregnant. But I didn't abandon you, either of you... I did it for her, and had I known about it, for you as well. I had no choice... I couldn't sacrifice my family, and I couldn't live with what I had to do to save you. _That_ is why I deserted!..."

Chiang shook his head. "Pay no attention to his delirious ramblings, Zha. In his position, a man would say anything to save what's left of his hide."

Shen shook his head, straining and rattling against the chains. "No! Please, you've got to believe me!" He swallowed thickly, limbs shaking from the pain and weakness. "I'm not saying this as a dying man trying to save himself. I'm saying this as a father...who only wants the son he never got the chance to know to have the truth..."

"We have no time for such nonsense!" Chiang ordered, visibly rattled. "On with it. The next cut!"

Zha again glanced between the two men, looking as though he might scream, faint, vomit, or some terrible combination of all three. He finally settled back on Shen's face, hand slowly raising the knife.

_God, no..._ Shen pled silently, too mortally terrified to speak. _Please, don't do this, Zha... Don't put this on your conscience... Please, save yourself..._

* * *

Though his mind was still very much aware of what was going on around him, his body refused to move. He lay at Ozai's feet, every part of him that was still able to feel something experiencing nothing but pain. Pain that he was glad of, for it reminded him that he wasn't quite dead yet. And as long as he was alive, he had a chance.

"Pity, I was hoping for a greater challenge. But I'm also not going to complain that you were just as pathetic and foolish as I remembered. Take gifts where you can get them and all that."

He felt a hard toe nudge his broken shoulder, but hadn't the strength to even yelp at the jolt of pain. By now, he knew, it was pretty clear that he was not going to make it. But whether he died or not, he knew the man towering above the sprawled tangle savagely beaten limbs he dared to call a body was most certainly going to have to, even if he himself was too dead to care about the aftermath.

"So now, of course, the final decision of what to do with you. Whether to kill you now, or have a little more fun at your expense first. The second would be fitting, I think. To toy with you as you have with me all these years..."

Zuko blinked, wondering for a vague moment just what in the hell he could be talking about. _If anyone's toyed with anybody in this family_... He moved his head as much as the pain would allow, trying to look up at him. Ozai's teeth showed through his smile, the red glow of the lake shining in his eyes like a pair of deranged red stars.

"But the Dragon has granted me a victory today, and Wolong is a very fickle one indeed. As much as making you suffer has been satisfying, keeping you out of what's mine has been my ultimate goal." He watched in helpess terror as those arms began to circle in that by now all too familiar pattern. "So while it's been a pleasure, I'm not about to let the Dragon change his mind."

_The stomach. It's the Sea of Chi..._

His bad shoulder was on the ground. The good one facing up. Still useable. And Ozai's Sea of Chi was well within striking distance, if he had anything to strike with. He suddenly cursed his code of honor for leaving his broadsword at the far end of the chamber and not bringing it into the fight.

And it was then, as the deep crackling sound of impending death filled his ears, that he saw it. Just within reach of his outstretched hand. Glinting in the red light of the lava, as though it already had blood on the edge. A piece of shiny, black, razor-sharp obsidian.

It was true, one could not bring his weapons into an Agni Kai. Such a thing would compromise the honor of the duel. But if something that could be used as a weapon just happened to be lying there? Fair game.

He inched his hand over it, watching Ozai's movements. He had one shot, and he had to make it. His muscles tensed with what was left of his strength as he watched for that one spot in the pattern, the one that told him the spark was there and waiting to be channeled into crackly blue death.

With a sudden jab of his arm, twist of his body, and ecstasy of unexpected movement, he reached up and sunk the crude, makeshift blade into Ozai's stomach.

Blood sported onto his hand as he let go of the end, catching himself on his knees and one good arm as he watched Ozai stagger back from him with a piercing scream of agony, body twitching and jerking as lightning crackled around him. His face was grey and bloodless, his eyes wide, lips trembling and the corners of his mouth turned down.

"You... This is... You..."

He folded to his knees, clutching the dagger and trembling all over, just as much from the jolts of electricity still in his system as from fear.

"How... H-How could you... H-How did..."

He folded even more slowly to the ground beside Zuko, dark blood staining his hands, his clothes, the rock he lay on. There was so much of it.

And now he could see, illuminated by the chamber's only light source. Tears glistening at the corners of his eyes, his expression a sickening maelstrom of hate, anger, rage, fear, frustration, and something he could only describe as pure madness.

He felt his heart crack in his chest. Of all things he thought he would never have to see. His father, lying curled on the ground in a pool of dark blood, tears in his eyes and his shoulders starting to wrench with barely held back sobs of defeat.

His own eyes stung in answer, hot tears slipping over his face as he reached a hand out with the last of his strength. His own bloodied fingers clasped around his father's, squeezing tightly.

_I'm sorry_... he mouthed, as no sound would come out. _I'm so sorry_...

It was the last he saw, the last he felt, before his eyes closed and the world vanished.

* * *

Zha raised the knife once again at Chiang's agitated command, though inside he felt as though his body were moving by a sheer will of its own. This wasn't possible. This wasn't happening. This was not real.

He forcibly dropped his hand to his side, shaking. "No..."

Chiang's eyes narrowed. "What...?"

Zha felt his teeth clench as he turned around to face the man. "I said... _No._" He took in a deep breath, a low, menacing growl.

Shen swallowed hard behind him. "...Zha?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "You keep your mouth shut." He turned back to Chiang. "I can't... I _won't_...punish this man."

Chiang's features hardened. "He murdered one of the royal family. He deserted the military. He aided the forces against the throne. Are you really condoning such a thing?" He paused, as if for severity. "He is a _traitor_, Zha."

His breath deepened to a heavy, raspy pull, seething. "So are _you_."

He did not wait for a response before he leapt at the general, brandishing the knife in his bloody hands.

The action went by too quickly for him to follow most of it. The sounds of struggling, scuffling, screaming and growling filled his ears, the scent of blood his nose, pressure and tension his hands. And yet his eyes saw nothing, except for his mother's face, telling his aunt to take him and leave. The look on Shen's face when he recognized the signet. The shattered glass when he threw the ring at his own reflection.

The knife left his hands at some point, though he neither knew nor cared why as he ducked under and traded furious blows with the general. Not thinking, his body moving purely on instinct that had been trained into him since he could walk. Instinct that had given him the longest lifespan of any wall guardsman in the entire Fire Nation military. Instinct that had made him a god five times over.

But even the greatest of instincts are not perfect, especially when one's opponent fights with things other than his fists. Thus, he did not expect the jade-tipped end of the opium pipe to be shoved in his moputh. And most definitely didn't expect it to keep going until he backed away, flinging the thing aside, coughing and gagging and doubled over in perfect alignment for a solid knee to the face.

"If that's the way you wish it," Chiang growled, "you can die for his crimes as well!" He felt himself shoved back onto the table, as two surprisingly strong hands clamped around his throat and began to squeeze.

He choked, struggling futily against his reeling head and weakening body, vision starting to blur and fade. This was it. The fitting end to his brash, reckless life that he knew would someday befall him. That bridge was moot. He would have nothing to do after the war but get eaten by maggots, and in that tiny, secret part of his mind, it was almost a relief despite the pain and the panic. It would be over soon.

And just as suddenly, the weight and the pressure lifted, and oxygen flooded his lungs with a force that made his head spin. He looked up, rubbing his neck and coughing, his vision clearing enough for him to make out the two struggling figures of Chiang and Shen, who now held the dagger, his bonds in tatters and his wrists as bloody as the rest of him from the serrations on the straps.

"Go!" he yelled. "Run!"

He could only stand there in confusion, in shock, as though his feet were welded to the floor. Nothing about the situation seemed to compute.

"Get out of here!" Shen yelled. "I'll catch up with you later! Go!"

The force holding him in place released, and he obeyed without argument, throwing the door open with his shoulder and running blindly through the outpost with the sounds of the struggle clinging to his back. Chiang's growls. Shen's screams.

He dared not look back.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	19. The Price

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 19: The Price

* * *

"Second line, relaunch! Third line, fire!"

Jin dropped to one knee as her partner loaded another spearheaded missile into the barrel of her launcher, keeping the sight level as she tracked one of the balloons floating toward her, basket swaying in the wind like the arm of an airborne demon. Her partner loaded a fresh charge into the back of the launcher, and she kept her sight trained as she awaited Sokka's command.

"Third line, relaunch! Fourth line, fire!"

It would continue this way through all ten lines, she knew. While she and the rest of the first five lines faced the oncoming balloons, the five ines behind them faced opposite, to catch any that made it past the initial volley. Sokka himself coordinated everything, standing on a ruined section of the wall above them.

"Fourth line, relaunch! Fifth line, fire! Sixth line on, fire at will!"

The sounds became a regular pattern. Sokka's cry. The hiss of the fuses burning, like a roused serpent getting ready to strike. And finally the sharp, harsh thunderclap of the blasting charge going off, and the skirr of polished wood against the brushed steel lining of the launcher's barrel as the missile hurled toward its target.

Above them, this pattern was only punctured by the sound of ripping fabric, splintering wood, and the screams of terrified young men plummeting to their deaths. She tried as much as the rest of them to ignore that last part. To let it blend in with the rest of the din of battle, fade into the background where it was just part of war. But that didn't stop the shiver down her back.

"Fifth line, relaunch! First and second lines, fire!"

And that was her cue. Her partner lit the fuse, and she led her target with the wooden sight and a steady shoulder, until finally the weapon shuddered with the force of the launch. She fought to maintain her heading until it cleared, watching with a racing heart as the missile sailed into the reddened sky.

A moment later, the sound of the ripping canopy rewarded her as the spear tore through its target, sending the vessel plunging to the unforgiving ground below.

"First and second, relaunch! Third and fourth, fire!"

She looked up at Sokka, pushing her hair back as her partner reloaded the weapon. They were coming faster now if he had two lines going at once. Which meant they were likely to be overtaken soon. She didn't want to stop and think about it, nor could she afford to. Dropping again to one knee, she let her partner load the next missile and powder charge.

And that was when she heard it. A faint rumbling, like distant thunder, but heavier. She looked up nervously, noting that she was also not the only one alarmed. Several of her comrades glanced around in confusion, until one of them pointed in the distance.

Her jaw dropped.

A gigantic cloud of ash, carried on the wind by the eruption behind it, was blowing straight for them. Smoky, black, and stained red with the light from the volcano's fury, barreling toward them like a massive airborne demon.

"Great," her companion grimaced. "As if we didn't have enough to-"

"No," she said, pointing. "Look!"

Though tiny and smoky and barely discernible, she could still make out the tiny figure darting through the cloud. A great woolly beast, with a rider standing atop it, arms waving frantically.

"It's Aang!" she shouted. "It's the Avatar!"

Sokka looked to follow her, yelling as he signaled with his arms. "Stop! Everyone, hold your fire!"

Everyone had their faces skyward now, watching as the remains of the balloon fleet pressed on to meet the ashen barrier before them. The cloud seemed to swallow them in a chaotic maelstrom of swirling darkness, to where only the vaguest shapes could be seen through it. And it didn't last long until the balloons rammed into each other with a disconcerting crash, before plummetting toward the earth once the collisions jarred the fastenings on the canopies loose.

The entire fleet seemed to get the same idea as the cloud spread over them like a foul black sea. In a mad scramble, each vessel began to reverse direction, backing away as the cloud of ash chased them up over the ridge.

Sokka clambered down the outcropping, rushing up to her and the other gun troops, wiping his forehead. "Okay. The kid can be a little flaky, but when the Pai Sho tiles are down, you know you can count on him."

Jin smirked. "I know." She dropped the launcher to her side. "Plan B?"

Sokka nodded. "Go join the Clay Army since Aang has the balloons on the run. They're going to need you more."

She unsheathed her _guandao_, saluting him. "We'll meet you at the Palace Gate."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The smell of ash and brimstone hung thick in the air, punctured only by the glow of fireblasts and the whistle of knives as the two traded attacks in a swirling fury before realizing it was a draw and regrouping, circling each other like a pair of jackals.

Ty Lee bit her lip, looking from one to the other and feeling once again caught between two closing walls. Azula spun to avoid a knife that would have easily severed an important artery somewhere, and Mai in turn ducked a fireblast whose rush of wind blew her short hair straight back.

"I don't understand it," Azula snarled. "You had everything short of a royal title, and you throw it all away to help my stupid, worthless brother!"

Mai flexed her hands, readying another dagger. "Funny that you call Zuko worthless. He doesn't need to intimidate people in order for them to follow and befriend him. He doesn't need to be constantly suspicious of those around him. He has actual friends who stay with him because they like him." She smirked derisively. "Hell, I'd almost think you were _jealous_ of him..."

Azula answered her with a blade of flame that she barely managed to duck under.

Mai snorted. "And of course, all the time your mother spent with him, because even as a kid he was much more pleasant to hang around than your creepy, bratty self and she knew it. She didn't even say goodbye to you that last night, did she?"

Azula's eyes flared, and Ty Lee felt her heart pound as her former friend unleashed a vicious bolt of lightning that Mai just managed to roll away from. "You ungrateful, lying _whore!_" she screamed. "Don't you even go there!"

Mai pulled herself up from the ground, readying another blade and laughing nastily. "Lying? Me? Oh Azula, you kill me. You, who couldn't tell the truth if the alternative were death by leeches. It's all true and you know it. You're such a crazy, evil, incorrigible _bitch_, not even your own mother could bring herself to love you. This miserable thing you call a life is all you've got left and everyone knows it."

"I don't care what you think I have left," Azula growled, "as long as it's enough to kill you both."

Ty Lee cringed as she unleashed what could only be described as alternating rivers of fire toward Mai from her open palms, which the other girl skillfully dodged by rolling, swerving, and leaping out of the way among the craggy rocks above. Outcrop to outcrop, just barely ahead of each attack. She got the occasional knife off in return, but for the most part it was enough of an effort to merely stay alive.

Until finally Ty Lee saw that feral, serpentine grin spread over her blood-red lips. She readied one arm as she kept shooting the fireblasts with the other, circling it in a way that was all too familiar and no less terrifying any time she'd ever seen her do it.

"Mai!" she yelled up to her friend as she perched on a high, stuck-out ledge. "Mai, look out! She's going to-"

Too late.

The bolt struck beneath the ledge with a deafening crack, the rock exploding into a pelting shower of stones. Ty Lee shielded herself with an arm for a moment, looking up in time to see Mai's horrified expression before she hit the crags with a grunt, rolling down the slope and coming to a face-down stop. Sprawled across the rocks, a small trail of dark red left in her wake and smeared on the side of her head.

"_Mai!_"

She didn't move.

Azula surveyed her handiwork with a pleased smirk, looking squarely at Ty Lee as she stood frozen behind the rock, heart racing, palms sweating, face growing hot and flushed with panic.

"And the traitor falls. Did you really expect anything else? Anything different to happen?" She shook her head, clucking her tongue in disdain. "The poor thing. Spent her whole life so bored, and in the end she goes out trying in vain to make something happen. If only she'd just accepted that this is just the way the world works..."

Ty Lee barely heard her. Barely heard anything as she just watched her friend's still form through slowly blurring vision, the corners of her eyes stinging and not from the sharp, ash-laden wind the ruffled Mai's clothes and hair. Her hands clenched into rock-solid fists at her side, breathing turning shaky and tense.

"You have two choices here, sweetheart," Azula went on. "You can learn from her example and grow a brain in that flighty head of yours...or you can follow her to such a fate. I don't care which." Ty Lee watched as she buffed her nails on her tunic. "Just make your choice and make it fast. I don't have all day."

With barely enough time to question the sanity of such a decision, she leapt onto the rock and launched herself at her former friend.

Azula looked up in confusion, startled just long enough to doom herself, and let those readied fingers land their marks. Ty Lee landed in a crouch behind her, face as still and expressionless as the rocks beneath their feet.

Azula struggled to move her arms. Her legs. Anything. Her voice seethed in panicked anger. "...You little _bitch_..."

Ty Lee didn't wait, walking up behind her. Gripping her by a shoulder, spinning her around, and delivering a solid punch that sent her sprawling across the rocks with a yelp. A bruise was already forming on her jaw, blood streaking the side of her head.

Ty Lee said nothing, merely kicking her paralyzed body across the crags, over the edge to the embankment below. Azula rolled a few more paces as Ty Lee jumped down to follow her, standing over her and planting a graceful foot square in the center of her chest. She stared into those eyes, seeing for the first time that she could ever remember the most universal of fears behind them.

"I think it's you that needs to learn how the world works," she murmured. "Too bad you're not going to be in it long enough." She raised her foot, prepared to stab the heel of her boot between the girl's ribs.

"Ty Lee!"

She suddenly felt a pair of strong arms clamp around her from behind, pulling her away from her captive. She struggled against the grip, snarling and growling. "Let me go!"

"No! I can't let you!"

She barely recognized the voice. But the armored chest guard against her back and the billowing sleeves of the robe she wore were familiar enough. She tried to wrench out of the iron grip, to no avail. "I'm not done with her yet!"

Her captor spun her around, locking her arms at her sides with a pair of strong hands. Ty Lee knew her now. It was the Kyoshi leader.

"Stop it!" Suki growled. "You've stopped her well enough. We need her alive so that she can stand trial for her crimes. You may not believe me right this minute, but trust me, you don't want her blood on your hands when you come back to your senses." The girl's face turned grave as she looked over to the rest of the Kyoshi Warriors seeing to Mai's fallen form. "Neither would she."

Ty Lee calmed her shuddering breath, still seething as she glared over at Azula's supine body. Suki patted her shoulder in reassurance. "She'll pay for what she's done. Just not by your hand. The law of your own country will deal with her."

Her hands balled into fists again, angry tears frozen at the corners of her eyes. "It had better. For _her_ sake."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Katara put the water back in her bending skin as the line of soldiers before her, Pakku, and Iroh laid down their weapons and stepped back. They were beaten and they knew it. The gun troops and Aang both had sent the balloon fleet packing. Haru's men and the Clay Army had closed in from the north and south. The eruption to the west made it impossible to mount a successful defense against Shen Lei's small and well organized platoon. Even Azula herself was in custody.

The three of them entered the city's inner gate as the surrendered soldiers parted for them, all looking far too scared to make a move. Under their breaths, she heard the fluttering murmur. Be afraid. The Dragon of the West. The White Death of the North. The Red Storm of the South.

_So that's what they're calling me now._

She swallowed thickly, averting her eyes. Pakku's hand rested on her shoulder comfortingly as they made their way past the soldiers toward the main square.

Haru and Jin were waiting for them in front of the fountain, dusty and exhausted from the fighting. "We've got just about everyone accounted for," he said, bowing to greet them. "The only one missing is Ozai himself. But he's going to have a rather rude awakening once he gets back to his city."

Pakku nodded. "If he gets back at all. Where is the Avatar?"

"He was driving off the balloon fleet a while ago, but I haven't seen him since."

As though on cue, a great rush of wind gushed down from above, heralding Aang and Appa as they swooped in for a landing. He slid off the saddle, out of breath and clutching his closed glider.

"Aang!" Katara rested both hands on his shoulders, blinking and feeling her stomach knot up at how his smaller body trembled under them. "Aang, what's wrong?"

"Ozai..." he murmured, his voice starting to crack. "Zuko..."

Her heart began to thunder.. "What about him?"

"He told me not to say anything..."

She felt her face contort and redden, giving the boy's shoulders a brief, firm shake. "Anything about what? Where is he!"

Aang sniffed, refusing to look at her as he spoke. "Alone... He said he had to do it alone. Don't tell him I told you, please... He'll be so mad..."

Pakku knelt on one knee, leveling with him. "He went to face Ozai by himself?"

Aang said nothing, merely drawing in a shuddering breath.

"The Shrine of the Dragon," Iroh said, paling. "Atop the mountain. If he's indeed gone to face the Fire Lord, that's where we'll find them."

"Take Appa." Aang looked up from Iroh, to Pakku, and back to Katara. "You have to help him. He told me it was his fight, that you weren't supposed to intefere... But if something bad's happened, we can't just abandon him!..."

"We won't," Pakku reassured him, already starting to climb up into Appa's saddle. "Come on, let's go!"

Katara nodded, giving Aang's shoulders a squeeze before following Iroh on board the bison, holding her breath as the great beast took off into the red, ash-filled sky.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Lao had no idea what led him down this way.

Down the craggy slope toward the city wall as the mountain continued to rage behind him like a demon woken straight from the bowels of Hell itself. What made him think his friend had come this way. Only that he knew, as surely as if he'd heard it from the lips of God.

The old guard outpost loomed before him, spires jutting into the sky like a pair of jagged teeth, a light showing in the topmost window. He did not know for certain if that could be it. One part of him was hellbent on finding out. The other half was afraid to.

And caught between that hesitant moment of indecision to simply put one foot in front of the other, to move forward that one single step, that was when he saw it.

A lone figure exiting the base of the outpost. Running toward him. Full armor gleaming red in the light of the destruction all around them. Running full tilt as though he had an invisible Hell-demon at his heels. For a moment, he let his mind think it, not caring how dangerous hope was.

And then he saw his face.

_...I have a _son_, Lao..._

Young, lean, chiseled by years of fighting. Corners of his lips turned down in terror. Eyes wide and scared. It was the eyes more than anything. Though the rest of his face was that of a stranger, the eyes were the same shape and setting and color. The same windows to a different soul. He knew then anywhere. Would know them as long as he lived.

_He has my eyes..._

The boy stopped in mid-stride when he saw him, about thirty yards away. Breathing heavily and trembling. Lao swallowed thickly, before finally gathering his nerve and calling out to him.

"You're his son, aren't you!"

The boy didn't answer, except to take a step back, eyes widening further.

Lao darted forward, desperate. "Where is he! What happened to him!"

At that, the boy's face drained of all color, cheeks and lips flushed with terror and eyes glassy with shock.

He turned and fled over the ridge.

Lao knew. He knew as sure as the thin, icy fingers of dread creeping across his gut told him. He ignored the sting in his eyes, the hoarse crack in his voice as he shouted a desperate plea to the boy, half-heartedly pursuing him on sluggish legs that only wanted to collapse in a pile of of nothing and never move again.

"Wait! Come back! Please!..."

To no avail. He was already gone, his figure disappearing into the smoke.

He froze in his tracks, trembling all over, stomach feeling as though he'd just swallowed a full day's ration of icewater. The corners of his eyes stung in a way he didn't think he was capable of.

_He's gone..._

It didn't feel real. It felt like he was watching the action unfold from outside himself, waiting for the actor playing him to react. Waiting to wake up when Shen threw a canteen of water in his face. Like he'd done so many times in those dark tunnels beneath Ba Sing Se.

_He's gone..._

The look on the boy's face burned itself beind his eyelids as a permanent brand. Never before in his life had he ever thought he might be too crushed, too saddened to actually cry.

_He's gone..._

He finally gave in to his body, sinking to his knees on the hot ground. Even if they had won the war, it no longer mattered to him.

In his mind, the world had already ended.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It was cool and dark when he finally became aware of his surroundings again. Moonlight filtered down through the leaves of yew trees high above as he followed the small forest trail, soft grass rustling under his bare feet and a soothing breeze whispering across his face.

The trail lead him to a clearing, and the clearing to the bank of a crystalline blue river as far as the eye could see to either side, the waters disappearing into swirls of mist beyond his view ahead. Before him, a small dock extended into the water, a silver mariner's bell hanging from a post at the front of it. It was still and quiet, but not unnervingly so. Calm and secure, unearthly peaceful.

He stepped out to the dock's edge, swallowing thickly, sensing as if he was supposed to do something but not knowing quite what. A powerful yearning to get across the river into the mists beyond. He looked up at the bell, with its long pull chain and ivory stopper, reaching up for a minute and giving it a sharp tug. Though he felt the vibration of the ring, no sound issued forth to disturb the perfect stillness.

He looked back toward the river, wonder what, if anything, ringing the silent bell would accomplish. He didn't have long to dwell on it before a dark shape drifted into view through the mists. A tall white-cowled figure standing at the front of a small white boat, steering the craft with a pole whose end hooked in an unsettlingly familiar way.

The boat pulled up to the dock, but the man bothered not with moorings. He merely held the pole fast into the ground with one hand, stretching out the other with an open palm. And now that he was close enough, he could see a long, thin reed in the man's mouth. The only part of his face visible beneath the gleaming white cowl.

He instinctively checked the pockets of his tunic, to no avail. He had nothing with him, save the clothes on his back.

The man withdrew his hand. "You do not have payment."

Zuko shook his head, feeling his chest clench.

"Then you must turn back. It is not time for you to cross yet."

He stepped forward, desperate, to the edge of the dock. "Please," he said shakily. "Please, let me come with you. I'll do whatever you ask as payment. Just...just let me across..."

The man shook his head slowly. "You cannot cross before it is your turn. For once you do...there is no going back."

He felt his eyes sting, his chest aching. "I don't want to go back."

"...Why not?"

The question stopped him cold, like a splash of icy water to the face. But only for a moment of confused silence. When he spoke again, he barely recognized his own voice. Haggard and worn, thin, like too little mortar scraped over too much brick.

"I'm tired. I'm so tired. I've fought for everything my whole life. Struggled for what little I have, and...and it never seems to get any better. No matter how hard I keep fighting. I've given it my best. I've given the best fight I can, and I still have nothing to show for it. Haven't I earned the right to give up yet?" He grabbed the post for support, just speaking of it taking the strength from him. "I'm...so tired. I just want to sleep..."

The man was silent for a long moment, tilting his head curiously and regarding Zuko as if with great interest, before he finally spoke again.

"What if I could promise you that your fighting will pay off?"

He looked up, ears perked and alert. "How... How do you mean?"

"What if I could show you that it will get better? That you will have all the happiness you have ever sought, for years to come...if you only fight a little bit longer?"

He swallowed hard, unable to help his heart racing just a bit. "C-Can you do that?"

"Will you go back if I do?"

He thought for a moment, before slowly nodding. It wasn't like he had much to lose anymore.

The man pushed back a bit from the dock, putting a modest space of water between them. With the submerged end of the hooked pole, he began to stir and swirl the water into a large, clear pool. Zuko blinked in fascination as he watched, until vague, dim shapes began to materialize in the moonlight's reflection.

It was himself, clothed in the finest raiment, standing at the Palace's grandest balcony. Surrounded by his friends, addressing an attentive and happy crowd below as Iroh lowered the crown onto his head.

He swallowed hard, looking back up at the man. "I'm...going to be Fire Lord. I kind of already knew that."

"You will not just become Fire Lord," the man said. "You will be known throughout Fire Nation history as _J__ī__nlóng_, the Golden Dragon, who led his country back from darkness, into an age of peace, prosperity, and splendor that it hasn't known since thousands of years ago. You will be revered in ways even your great-grandfather would have envied, known for all time as the Fire Lord who saved not only his own country, but pulled the world itself back from the brink of destruction."

He let those words sink in for a moment. Revered. Respected. Loved. All the things he had rarely, if ever, been in his life so far. His heart trembled at the thought of it.

"Do you need further convincing?"

Zuko sighed. "Being a great historical figure does not always mean being happy. Especially not if I'm only known as such _after_ I'm no longer around to enjoy it."

The man paused, before giving the pool another stir. The shapes broke up and scattered for a moment, before slowly reforming themselves into a new vision. A woman this time, her face hidden beneath a cloak and hood, save for her thin lips. She raised her hands, carefully dropping the garment to her shoulders, revealing a face that even a decade of hard life and vague memories couldn't completely erase. He sucked in a breath, his heart pounding as he watched the image of himself fling his arms around her, pulling her in close with tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.

"...M-Mother..." He shot a look up at the man. "She's alive? I'll see her again?"

He merely nodded, slow and deliberate. "Do you still need another reason?"

Zuko swallowed hard. "I...maybe I don't _need_ one, but...but a third certainly can't hurt." He was trembling now. "It will be the last I ask for. I promise."

The man smiled softly, giving the water a third and final swirl of the pole. The image of his mother dissolved into the water again, the colors and shadows reforming once more into a pair of clasped hands. As he watched, the view widened, revealing one of the owners of those hands as himself. And the other as Katara.

They stood before a banner depicting the Dragon and Phoenix, and a smiling Fire Sage, both dressed in deep carmine robes. Katara herself wore a crown of Phoenix feathers crafted in red gold, and a single chrysanthemum affixed in her elaborate woven hair. The Sage began to tie a cord of braided gold and jade beads around their hands, giving a blessing with his own, and then stepping back as the two of them embraced. The crowd in the background cheered, waving red banners in rejoicing.

He did not need any further elaboration, merely looking up at the man with a very dry mouth and his heart pounding like the hammer of the busiest forge on earth.

"These things will all be yours," the cowled man said. "These things that you have fought for all your life. Security. Family. Love. Respect. They will all be yours in due time. These things will happen for you, I promise...but only if you go back now and _make them happen_. There is still fighting to be done. But I promise, it will get better as I've shown you. I know you've fought long and hard already. But if you hang on for a little longer, fight a little harder...all of these rewards will be yours." Were the cowl not in the way, he would have looked Zuko straight in the eye.

"Do you have a reason to go back now?"

Zuko nodded, pressing his fist into his hand and bowing low. "Yes. Thank you."

The man smiled again. "Then go. Turn back, and keep fighting. Go back and live another day. And make that day and each one after it worth living for."

Without another word, Zuko turned around, easily finding the trail back through the dark woods. Running and running until the trees disappeared into velvety black nothing. Until the golden outline of a door appeared ahead, creeping closer and closer until he was nearly flying toward it with bounding strides. He reached it finally, pulling the handle and opening it to reveal the royal chambers of the Palace. Still and opulent, lit by the light of a single torch on the far wall.

His body lay in the oversize bed, resting and peaceful. Bandaged around his head, propped on pillows and bared to the waist, revealing more bandages and bracing on his rips and shoulders. At his side, a figure hovered at the edge of the bed. One he knew so well he would've recognized her presence even in total darkness.

Katara held his limp hand in one of hers, looking over him with forlorn worry. Her other hand clutched a blue crystal phial, the cap decorated with a silver crescent moon. He took in a shuddery breath, coming up behind her for a moment. His heart felt heay and light at the same time. Burdened with the sorrow he could feel radiating from her, but almost floating with the knowledge of what was to come.

He smiled softly, wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind, though he knew she couldn't feel him there. _It's going to be all right. I promise, I'll be with you soon. Just...don't give up. Don't give up without a fight._

She seemed to relax at the thought, and after a long moment that could never have been long enough, he slid away from her to sit on the edge of the bed. With a last glance at her face, he lay down, closing his eyes and letting the soothing darkness of sleep join him back with his body.

TO BE CONCLUDED...


	20. Heir to the Throne

Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

* * *

The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART II: Peace

Chapter 20: Heir To the Throne

* * *

Sokka's shoulders slumped as he came back to the sitting room of the newly occupied Fire Palace, where the rest of his comrades sat around the hearth. Except for Katara, who was still in Zuko's room that he'd just come from. The hard part was over, at least.

Fire Lord Ozai was dead.

He didn't think he would ever forget such an announcement. They had come swooping in from the shrine, Zuko's unconscious body draped across Appa's saddle, Aang holding up the bloodied obsidian shard in one hand and Ozai's crown in the other. And every Fire Nation soldier on the ground staring up in a mixture of horror and awe, weapons slipping from their hands and fire vanishing into smoke beneath the settling blanket of ash from Mount Wolong's dying fury.

It was over. Everyone knew it. The surrender was swift once the situation was clear enough. They were surrounded on all sides, one of those by a volcano, and their leader was dead at the hands of the young man he'd cast out like an obsolete fashion statement.

And so now they were in the palace, desperately awaiting news on Zuko's condition. Sokka swallowed hard. He had some, only it was not what anyone wanted to hear.

Aang was the first to look up as he took a seat on the polished flagstone, frowning. "What...What did you hear?"

He leaned forward, sighing as Jin handed him a cup of strong green chamomile. "I... You know how I kept saying that he treated life like one big game of Pai Sho? ...Well I think...I think he might've bet the stakes a little too high this time." At their questioning looks, he closed his eyes, trying to keep his voice even. "Katara and even Master Pakku have done what they can for him. It'll be a miracle if he lives through the night."

The crackling of the fire filled what seemed to be a vacuum of sound from the entire group, as though that one simple piece of news had robbed them all of the ability to breathe, nevermind speak. His heartbeat thungered in his ears until finally, Toph broke the silence with an angry sniffle.

"That _jerk!_ He can't die on us! He can't! I beat his ass if he even thinks about it!"

Aang slid an arm around her shoulders, quietly calming her. "He...He'll be okay. He's gotta be. I mean, he's pulled through way tougher scrapes than this, right?"

"Yeah, he has," Sokka winced. "But not nearly as bad as this. He was lucky enough to live through the duel itself." He sighed. "I know he won't give up easy. He never has and this would be a hell of a time to start. But still..."

"He'll be fine," Toph affirmed. "He's gotta be."

Sokka nodded, trying to convince himself more than them. "Master Pakku said to just...keep talking to him. Sometimes they can hear, even if they can't respond." He swallowed hard. "Katara hasn't moved from his side since we brought him in. I'm just as worried for her. I don't want to think about it any more than you do, but losing him...is something we need to be prepared for."

Aang shook his head, his own eyes welling up a bit in the firelight. "H-He can't... He's got to make it. If he doesn't, she'll..."

Sokka shook his head. "I _saw_ him, Aang. He's dying. You can tell by the look on his face..."

The boy bit his lip for a moment, before venturing next to him and placing a hand on his arm, as though to steady both of them. Sokka pulled him close in a mutually comforting hug, rubbing Aang's back as he buried his face and the small whimpering sobs in the rough wolfskin of Sokka's tunic.

"He'll be so mad at me... He told me not to say anything... I promised I wouldn't..."

Sokka patted his shoulder, fighting to keep his voice even. "It's ok. He still got to defeat Ozai...and if he lives, he owes you his life. He'll understand."

It was a long few minutes before Aang finally calmed down to soft sniffling, and Toph joined them both in a group embrace while Jin stared forlornly into her tea. Sokka himself gazed into the heart of the flames, his own composure barely intact.

_You were brilliant. I didn't have to be there to know that. You beat the odds and defeated the most powerful Firebender in the world. I know it's a lot to ask, but...we need you to do it again. To beat the odds stacked against you and come out shining like you always do. Please...come back to us._

_We're waiting. The world is waiting_...

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The first thing she felt upon waking was pain. Blinding, excruciating pain of a calibre she didn't think was possible before this moment. Her hand twitched as she tried to move, despite common sense telling her that probably wasn't such a great idea right about now. She grimaced with the effort, straining to open her eyes.

Another hand, small and cool, pressed her back down to the blankets from the darkness above. "Take it easy, you shouldn't move yet..." The voice was soft, tiny and frightened and yet somehow familiar. She swallowed thickly, venturing the first guess that came to mind.

"T-Ty...Lee?..."

"Yeah. It's me. Just lay low, okay? You took a hell of a beating out there."

She didn't argue, just murmuring as she settled back down against the pillows. "I'm not dead, right? Being dead wouldn't hurt this much."

She heard Ty Lee's voice falter above her. "No. You're not."

Mai struggled for a bit, finally opening her eyes to see the girl's face, flushed and exhausted and her eyes glazed, the tracks of dried tears running over her cheeks. Her heart shuddered at the thought, that her friend looked like someone who hadn't slept right, if at all, in days.

"How...How long have I been out?"

Ty Lee wiped her face surreptitiously. "J-Just a couple days, but..."

Mai reached up as much as she could, touching her hand. "Please tell me you didn't drive yourself nuts worrying..."

The other girl took that wrist in her trembling fingers, kissing Mai's knuckles, her face reddening as she sniffed hard. "Like hell I didn't. You have any damn clue how close you came to dying? Don't you dare do that to me again!"

Mai swallowed hard, sighing and averting her eyes guiltily. "I'm...I'm sorry. It's over now, though. Right?"

Ty Lee nodded, letting out a shuddering breath. "Yeah. It is. And we won."

Mai smiled weakly. "Then that's all that matters."

She bit her lip. "I wouldn't say all."

Mai arched a brow, questioning. Ty Lee took a deep breath, before leaning down and sealing those trembling lips over hers. Gentle and timid, but still sweet and warm. Mai's initial surprise melted quickly enough, and she groaned softly under the contact, reaching one hand up to the girl's cheek before they each had to part for air.

Ty Lee blushed bright pink, swallowing thickly, though her face was no less serious. "_You_ matter to me."

Mai felt her chest clench at that, but she just smiled wanly. "Well...at least I matter to someone."

"Don't sell yourself short. You've always mattered to people. You just didn't know it until now."

"I'll take your word for it." Mai sighed, looking around the room and noticing the distinct lack of even a cot to sleep on. "Where...Where exactly did you sleep while I've been here?"

The other girl looked away sheepishly. "Mmm. There were chairs. There's this really big comfy one that one of the servants brought me..."

Mai propped herself up a bit, enough to shift over and make some room in the bed. "Come down here, you. And get some proper rest. You know, the way normal people do." She smiled slightly, letting Ty Lee know she was joking about that last part.

Her friend smiled back, settling down against the sheets and snuggling carefully up to her. "Seriously, thank you for coming back. I don't know what I would've done if...if..."

Mai pressed a finger over her lips. "Don't worry about it, okay? It's behind us. It's over."

Ty Lee nodded, nuzzling close and closing her eyes. "I know."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The torches in the room were burning low, casting everything in heavy shadows as she sat up against the headboard above him, watching him sleep. He looked eerily peaceful. The most tranquil she had ever seen him, outside of meditating. He was bared to the waist, his ribs bandaged, another around his head. So still, the rise and fall of his chest the only clue that he was even alive. She held his hand between both of hers as she watched him sleep, firelight playing over the rough skin of his scar. One that would soon be joined by others peppering his chest and arms.

On the table beside his bed lay the empty phial.

She'd guided the magical water down his throat, not knowing what else to do for him other than hope. Maybe pray. Though he hadn't woken, his breathing had become deeper. Easier. As though he was actually asleep rather than merely unconscious and in pain. She squeezed his hand, not wanting to think about Master Pakku's grim prognosis, or even what her own healing skills had told her. Not as Iroh was already going down the list of the scroll Aang had given them, taking care of immediate matters of state as he'd intended.

_As he wanted..._

The thought that he had been planning for his own death made her viscerally, irrationally angry. Even though she knew it was prudent on his part, to have something in place should he not survive to take the throne, just the mere thought of it made her want to smash things. That wasn't how it worked. He was a hero. And heroes always lived.

Or at least that's what she thought before now. And it wasn't fair. He'd survived through so much. They all had. Was this the ultimate price they had to pay to get peace back to the world? A very bitter part of her wanted to say that if that was the case, peace was simply not worth it. Not if she had to give up everything she held dear in order to achieve it. The part of her whom even the horror she'd seen had yet to ruin knew that was folly. She would lose what she loved eventually if the war was to go on. Perhaps even sooner.

A low groan and the stir of movement interrupted her thoughts, and her heart leapt as she saw his lashes flit and his head move slightly. "Z-...Zuko?" she ventured, her hands tensing.

His eyes struggled open to tine dark slits, and she clenched his hand. "Please, Zuko... Move your hand if you can hear me..."

His fingers tightened on hers, and he struggled to turn his head to face her, groaning again with the effort. His lips moved, trying to speak, but only the most rudimentary of sounds came forth. Eventually his lips worked around the words.

"K-... 'Tara?..."

She felt her eyes sting as they had many times tonight. But for an entirely different reason. She reached a hand down to touch his scarred cheek, as the other side of his face was nastily bruised and scratched. "Y-Yeah...I'm here." She swallowed thickly, her lips spreading into a thin smile. "Welcome back."

His eyes closed again with a sigh at that touch, and he squeezed her hand in earnest. "Wh-...Wh'rami?"

"You're at the palace. In your room." Her fingers drifted through his hair, carefully avoiding the bandage. "We won. It's okay. The war...it's over now."

His hand slid up to her wrist, carefully guiding her palm to his chest. She felt blood rise in her cheeks as she touched him, glad for a moment that his eyes were closed again. "I... M'alive...right?"

She nodded. "Yeah. We thought you...but you made it." She sniffed hard. "You're going to be okay now."

He smiled. "You know I'd never...give up without a fight."

"You've fought hard enough," she said. "Go ahead and rest now."

He nodded as much as he could, giving her hand a last squeeze before he slowly drifted off once again. She stayed for a few minutes, before suddenly realizing now that the elixir of worry and stress that had kept her awake for the last three days was wearing off just how exhausted she was. Ready to collapse on his bed in a puddle of relief.

Instead, she laid his hand back down on the bed, carefully pulling herself up and staggering out of the room, grabbing moulding and furniture for support as she hobbled over to the main sitting area. The rest of them had gone to bed, leaving no one at the hearth. She staggered over to the reclining couch, lying down on it and pulling the throw over herself. But as she turned over toward the fire, she startled back a little, not expecting the hazy figure in front of her, sitting on the cushion's edge.

"S-Sokka...?"

The figure didn't answer. It was a silhouette, but not quite Sokka's shape. Not Aang's, either. Yet somehow familiar, especially as he rested a warm palm on her shoulder. Yet she felt no dip in the cushion where he was sitting. The sensation, mostly that she _knew_ him from somewhere but couldn't pinpoint it due to being so tired and unable to think, made her uneasy. But at the same time, there was an overwhelming sense of safety, of warmth. That she was protected, and that everything really was going to be okay.

It was only as she closed her eyes, in those fuzzy moments before drifting off, that she realized she could see the rest of the room through the young man's form. But she had no time to think more on it before sleep took her under its wing.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"I have to admit," Pakku said, stirring his tea as Iroh set about sorting state documents in the royal study next to the throne room, "you raised one hell of a boy."

Iroh nodded, looking much less ashen once the news came through that Zuko was going to recover. "I may have had a hand in it. But something must be said for his inner fire. Without it, nothing I did would have mattered."

"So...How long do you think until he'll be ready?"

"He should be let out of bed the week's end..."

"That's not what I meant."

Iroh arched a brow. "What, then?"

"The test," Pakku said simply. "You know which one."

Iroh sighed, taking a sip of his own tea. "I'm not sure."

"He'll need to pass if the rest of the White Lotus is ever to get behind him as a ruler."

"I know that. But at the moment...I don't know when he's going to be ready. He's been through so much. Physically, mentally, spiritually... Not to mention all the work that's going to go into rebuilding after this war. He needs some rest first, before we can even think about testing him."

Pakku gave a noncommittal sound. "I know. I just...wanted to make sure you wouldn't forget."

"How on earth could I?"

"You're as good as a father to him. While I've never had children of my own...I know how you think. He's suffered enough, and you want to protect him. It's every good parent's most powerful instinct."

Iroh closed his eyes for a moment. "Yes. But I know that I can't protect him forever. It's hard to watch your child - even if they are yours in no place other than your own head - have to make their own mistakes, and on occasion hurt themselves. But it comes with being a parent; eventually, you have to let go, and let them learn on their own.

"It's the hardest thing a parent can ever do. It hurts to watch them take those first shaky steps, to have to stand back while they fall on their faces and skin their knees. But in the end you'll know that you've done your best, and that no matter how hard they fall, they will be able to get back up because you taught them how... That's when you realize they're no longer walking. They can _fly_."

Pakku smiled. "I was foolish to have worried. Wisdom has never failed you, and this would be a hell of a time for it to start."

Iroh returned the look, but no less serious. "Oh wisdom has failed me many times. Fortunately, those times have merely been scarce of late."

"And for the sake of everyone, we pray they continue to be."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It wasn't too long after, once under Katara's and Master Pakku's care Zuko's ribs had healed enough that he was at last able to sit up and eat by himself, that Aang found himself standing outside the door of his friend's room, psyching himself up for the last conversation he ever wanted to have.

_And if I don't return...take care of her for me..._

It was not the words, but how he said them, that made his feelings so painfully obvious. And while Aang himself had come to the conclusion long ago that whatever he felt for Katara was not to be reciprocated, it was in the aftermath of Omashu, while he watched her sleep in Zuko's arms by the fire and come around to her senses, that he knew. And though a part of him was still hurt and wondering what he'd done to ultimately anger the cosmos and make them hate him so much, he knew without a doubt that if anyone was going to have this conversation with Zuko, it would have to be him.

He sucked in a breath, pushing the door open and stepping in.

Zuko was propped up on pillows, looking out to the gray skies as rain drummed against the window. His legs were still covered by the thick blanket despite it being a warm evening, typical for early Spring in the Fire Nation. Though Aang supposed it was more for comfort. He cleared his throat softly, making his friend turn his head with a grimace, which made Aang in turn wince in sympathy.

"Still can't move too far yet, huh?"

Zuko groaned. "It's getting better. But...yeah. My body still kind of hates me."

Aang came over to the bed, settling beside him and adjusting the pillows so he could sit up properly. "Mmm. It's gonna be that way for a while, I think. Though you should be well enough for the coronation provided you behave yourself."

Zuko chuckled. "I haven't been _that_ much of a patient from Hell, have I?" He sighed. "What brings you in here, today? I mean, you look kinda shook up."

He averted his eyes, deciding he'd better take the opening before his resolve evaporated. "It's...It's about Katara."

His ears perked, instantly alert, and there was no mistaking the concern in his voice. "What about her? Is she okay?"

"Yeah," he said quickly, trying not to stammer. "It's...more about you and Katara."

A hot flush dusted his cheeks. "Mmm. Wh-What about us?"

Aang sighed, deciding it was going to be easier on both of them if he just skipped right to the point. "I know how you feel about her. It's no secret." He paused, thoughful. "Well it is to _her_, but..." He swallowed hard. "You should say something. Let her know."

Zuko looked away, visibly ashamed and awkward. "I'm...not so sure that's such a great idea."

"Why not?"

He looked back at the window, stammering and tripping over the words, as though he wasn't quite sure if they were the right ones. "Just because the war's over doesn't mean the danger is. I've probably made more enemies than I had when I was first banished. And with all the cleanup and rebuilding...I can't ask her to get involved in that." He swallowed thickly. "And that's even assuming she feels the same."

"She does," Aang said, his voice muted because he didn't trust himself to speak any louder without it breaking. "She was frantic when we couldn't find you after the battle. I...I told her where you went. I know you made me promise, but..." He held back a sniffle, biting his lip. "Three days, Zuko. She sat here three days, in the exact spot I am, because she was afraid you were going to die."

The other boy's shoulders hunched, as though under a great burden, before he turned back to face him. The look on his face was nothing less than pained. "The way _you_ feel about her isn't exactly a secret, either. I...she knew you first, and as a friend, even. It'd feel like...like I'm stealing her from you..."

Despite the sharp twinge in his chest and the powerful desire to agree, he shook his head. "She was never mine in the first place. I figured that out long ago. This isn't like deciding who gets the last handful of _tsampa_. You can't call dibs on people's feelings." He covered Zuko's hand with his own. "I want her to be happy. That's all. Even if it's not with me." He paused, smiling wistfully. "And you're my friend, too, yanno. It's not like I wouldn't want to see you happy, either."

Zuko swallowed thickly, looking utterly humbled. "...Thank you."

Aang let out a breath, moving closer and reaching up to hug him. Zuko returned it without even thinking, pulling him close and tight and resting his chin on his shoulder. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," Aang said, spiting the tears in his voice. "...I'm not."

He felt the other boy let out a shaky breath. "Then at the very least, I owe you."

Aang shivered, nuzzling carefully into his warm neck. "Just...make her happy, ok? That's all the reparation I could ask for." Zuko nodded, seeming unable to find words.

Not that Aang minded. For now, none were needed.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It was a few days later that Katara found herself in the main kitchen, preparing a tray of rice congee to take to Zuko, along with a cup of Iroh's finest ginseng tea. He was at least able to eat something a little thicker than broth, now, a sign he was getting stronger and possibly over the worst. She ladeled the thin porridge into a bowl, sprinking the top with shaved dried skipjack.

"Hey..."

She whirled on one foot, startled, but smiling sheepishly when she saw her father's towering form in the doorway. "Hi. I...figured I'd get Zuko something to eat."

He smiled. "How's he doing?"

"Better. He's not in quite as much agony. And he's starting to get an appetite back..."

He nodded in acknowledgement, coming in to sit at the small table where the servants would normally take their meals. "How are his spirits?"

"Good," she said, trying to keep her voice even but for the life of her not knowing why she was so nervous. "zhe's just bored out of his mind because they won't let him out of bed without help yet."

"Mm. Yeah. I'd imagine being bored also means he's got a lot of thinking to do. He must appreciate you doing so much for him."

She joined him at the table, folding her hands and biting her lip as she fought the rising heat in her cheeks. "What are you getting at, dad?"

"You were at his bedside for three days before he woke up. You didn't eat or sleep. You were a wreck. And now you're running yourself ragged taking care of him, spending every ounce of free time you have in his room. If there's something you need to tell him...don't put it off."

She shook her head, fingers trembling. "There's nothing, ok? He's just my friend..."

"Katara..."

"Dad, please. I don't want to talk about this now."

Hakoda reached across the table, covering her trembling hands with his own, which only made the panic in her chest tighter.

"Katara, it's okay. You don't have to deny it."

She shook her head. "It's...It's more complicated than that. He's been through enough. We've been through enough. He's a good friend... We have something special and I really don't want to strain that. It's been difficult enough to get even this close to him, I don't want to make things worse. He doesn't need it right now."

"Why do you think it'd be straining?"

"You're assuming he wants the same. What if he doesn't? It'll just be awkward...we'll never have what we have now. I just...things are good. They're simple. I don't want to complicate it."

Hakoda sighed, taking her hands between his own and thumbing her knuckles. "Something tells me that assumption isn't far off." He was silent for a moment, before continuing. "You remember back at Omashu, when I first arrived after the battle?"

She nodded, biting her lip and willing away the stinging in her eyes.

"When I first met him...he was by the fire, with you. Holding you while you slept and stroking your hair. He was exhausted, and utterly terrified when he realized who I was. But before he knew I was there...he had that look on his face. It's a look I'll never forget the rest of my life, because it was the same look I gave your mother that night at the Moon Dance Festival." His eyes were serious. "Trust me, I know a young man in love when I see one."

She sighed, letting out a shaky breath. "I"m just...scared. Not of being hurt, but of...messing up what I already have. I feel like I'm tempting fate by asking for more..."

Hakoda squeezed her hands. "I know. It's way too easy to feel that way, especially with what you two have been through. But...he almost _died_. I know he's going to be fine now, but what if he hadn't been?"

She clenched her eyes shut, willing away the strangled sound in her throat. "I don't want to think about it."

"I know you don't. Nobody does. But it's important."

_You'd think Jet would've taught you that_, her inner voice chided. For a moment, she could swear she felt a warmth on her shoulder, comforting and encouraging. Like a hand, but not.

"I'm not saying you tell him right this minute. Just...don't let fear stop you from doing it at all. You have way too much life ahead of you for that." He paused. "Like I told you before, it's not how we leave this world that's important, but what we do with the time we're given."

She smiled weakly, wiping her eyes. "Yeah. I just...hope I've been given enough."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It took longer than expected. Many weeks of becoming progressively more stable on his healing legs, being able to grab furniture and the arms of his companions for support without looking like it. At least the combined efforts of Katara and Master Pakku had healed his ribs and collarbone so he could breathe without wanting to scream.

But here he was, standing at the grand balcony under his own power. Dressed in deep crimson and gold robes, hair pulled up into a meticulous topknot, with a sprawling crowd of waiting citizens below filling every inch of the Fire Palace's largest courtyard.

Just as the Ferryman had shown him.

He smiled nervously as Iroh stepped up behind him, barerly listening as the Fire Sage beside him recited the traditional blessing, the wishing of long life and good health, of wisdom and righteousness. He responded with memorized lines, all the while his mind on the four companions behind him. Sokka and Katara on either side of Iroh, Aang and Toph flanking them.

It seemed to take forever until finally, Iroh himself fitted the crown headdress over his hair, and a great cheer erupted from the crowd below.

Normally, this would be the point at which the dancing and festivities would begin. Where baijuu would flow freely as the entire nation celebrated until the following sunrise. But this was, of course, no ordinary ceremony. Zuko cleared his throat, and felt the weight of a million pairs of eyes on his shoulders.

"The Hundred Year War has ended. A long and bloody chapter in not just my nation, but our world's history, is finally closed. And with it we can finally begin to rebuild all that we've destroyed. Our homes, our families, our spirits, and our lives. It is going to be a difficult time; of this I'm already aware. Just because the fighting is over does not mean the desire for it is.

"But this is where I tell you that I will make no pretenses. That I take full responsibility for all that my nation and my people have done. All the hurt and horror and pain that we have caused the world in our misguided belief that we were somehow better. I am _sorry_. And I want to set things right as best I can, to rebuild the trust and harmony that the world enjoyed before the thought of war ever entered anyone's mind."

He swallowed thickly, fighting to keep his voice even. "But I _can't_ do it alone."

"I need you. I need you all in this effort. Not just my own people, but all those in the world still living. I need you to help me put all this horror and bloodshed in the past, and focus on moving forward. To eliminate that which causes war in the first place: poverty, class disparity, fear, insecurity. I need you to work together, to help me ensure the welfare of even the least fortunate among us. So that we can move on, and never again have a need to revisit this dark time."

He bowed his head, legs shaking, and not from weakness. "I can't replace the lives lost. I can't give back the parents, brothers, sisters, sons, or daughters. But I can make restitution for everything else. All that I ask, all that I ever will ask, is your forgiveness. Not for my sake, but for everyone's. Because harboring bitterness and grudges has never and will never beget peace. If we are to coexist and make this era better than the one we're leaving behind, we must let go of the past, and look to the future. It's all we have left."

At the silence, he lifted his head. "And to this, I wish to make my first act as Fire Lord."

He raised his hand, and a pair of soldiers escorted a chained, scowling Azula to the dais in the courtyard's center. He carefully descended the balcony's staircase to meet them, pulling the dagger that Iroh had given him from his sleeve.

The soldiers forced her to her knees, as Zuko held the dagger straight up in front of him. "Princess Azula. The Tribunal has already found you guilty of many crimes war, including but not limited to the murder of civillians, and the wanton destruction of cities, towns and villages, and any devastation not justified by military or civilian necessity. There are many, I know, who would see nothing less than your head on a pike in front of the Palace Gate to serve as an example.

"But giving in to those demands will do nothing but stoke the bloodlust of those you have hurt. It will not correct what you've done, and would even serve to provoke more violence. Revenge is a dish that, whether eaten cold or hot, never truly satisfies.

"But this does not mean you can escape punishment, as you always have. It means that if I am going to make an example of you, it will be one that I actually wish to have imitated. As someone who was in your place once, who has committed acts of his own that he is not proud of and never should be, there is but one way that I think you can ultimately pay for your deeds: by experiencing that which you have caused."

He bent down as best he could, pulling her head up by the topknot, catching her horrified expression for only a moment before slicing through the tightly bound tresses with a vicious slash of the razor-sharp dagger.

She lowered her head again to face the ground, eyes wide and lips trembling. He held the piece of her hair aloft.

"From this day on, you are a princess no more. Nor are you welcome anywhere on Fire Nation soil, or in any territory in which the Fire Nation has sovereignty. If you are seen or captured anywhere in these lands, you will be arrested, and dealt with accordingly under the laws of exile." He looked to the guards. "Take her away."

The two men saluted, dragging her through the crowd, pausing only long enough for her to shoot the glare of an angry viper back at him.

He turned back to face the balcony above. "And with that, I wish to conclude this ceremony with the hopes and dreams of not just those in attendance, but all over the world. We will do this. We will rebuild. We will move on. Today, we celebrate. And we remember all the heroes who have made this day, the end of this war, possible. Go forth, to love and serve each other."

He watched as the guards and the Fire Sage knelt in reverence, everyone on the balcony following suit. Sokka. Toph. Aang. Katara. Iroh. All starting to drop to their knees in unison, in a way that made his chest clench with the definitive knowledge that this was not right. He shook his head, waving his hand to stop them.

"My comrades," he said. "You bow to _no one_."

He ignored the pain, closing his eyes as he folded to one knee, head down in reverence.

There was a heavy, tense silence. Before the rustle of silk gowns and leather breeches and the scrape of cork soles on marble told him that the entire crowd had taken his lead.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The salty sea air seemed to breathe a life of its own into the bustling port, where the delegations from the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes who were headed back to their own lands were preparing to depart. She stood at the dock in the same formal blue cheongsam she'd worn at the ceremony, feeling so very very sheepish. Like she didn't belong there. Zuko stood beside her as the dock-workers loaded the provisions and cargo onto the waiting ship, a Water Tribe corsair decked with the banners of Chief Arnook. The ship that would take her back to the North Pole, where she'd promised she would go to finish the training Master Pakku still had in store.

For a fleeting moment, as Zuko's arm circled her bare shoulders, she regretted making such a promise. But she knew, much as she dared not admit it, that Master Pakku finally accepting her as an equal worthy to pass on his knowledge and title to was a dream she'd had long before she'd met and felt things for the young man standing beside her. She could not rescind her decision, she knew, without even greater regret.

"I swear, I miss you already," she said, turning to him. He smiled. That adorable grin that she didn't know whether to smack or kiss off his face.

"I'll come to visit as soon as I get things settled here. I'm sure I can drum some kind of political excuse to drop by."

She chuckled a bit. "I don't doubt it. Just...don't drive yourself too insane, here."

"I'll be fine," he said, rubbing her shoulder. "Up to my neck in work, but fine."

She laughed again, before her face melted into a frown. She still hadn't managed to muster the words to tell him, no matter what her father had said. And now may be the last time she would get the chance. The last time she would see him for God knew how long.

"Katara?" he asked. "Something wrong?"

_Don't let fear stop you_...

She took a psyching breath. "I...I have something I wanted to tell you. Something I was afraid to say before now because...because I wasn't sure if..." She bit back the rest of it, shaking her head. "But the war's over, and I...I don't when I'll get another chance..."

He licked his lips, and she could practically feel his breathing and pulse chasing her own. "Another chance to what..."

She swallowed thickly, reaching both arms up to the back of her neck and undoing the clasp to her necklace, holding it in her hand and murmuring to him. "It was my mother's...Master Pakku carved it for my grandmother as a betrothal token. It was passed on to my mother, who gave it to me. It's all I have left of her. Wearing it makes me feel like I'm never alone, that she's always there with me no matter what." She looked up at him, smiling despite the stinging in her eyes. "I...want you to have it."

His eyes widened in disbelief as he stammered uselessly, tripping over the words. "W...what? But it's yours! You... I... I can't... Are you sure?"

She pressed it into his hands, clasping them between his own. "I want to be with you, Zuko. Even if I'm so far away."

He just looked at her, dumbfounded, like a man who's just been given the most sought-after revelation of his life and can't decide whether to pinch himself or not because if he's dreaming, he doesn't want it to end. He swallowed hard, running a thumb over the blue stone for a moment, before tucking the necklace into his cloak and pulling her into a tight, desperate embrace. "...Thank you."

"You're welcome," she stammered, nuzzling her cheek against his neck so he wouldn't see the tear on it. He would have none of it, pulling away and lifting her chin on his finger into a firm, needing kiss.

She leaned into it, not caring for anything in that moment but his warmth and closeness and his hand on her cheek. Her fingers slid through his hair, making him moan softly against her lips, the sound and sensation sending a shiver down the length of her body. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her in tight against him. As if to memorize the moment.

It could have been minutes or hours before they parted, unable to say anything for a moment, and not just for lack of breath. Though as far as she was concerned, no words were needed. He agreed, settling instead for pressing his forehead to hers and rubbing a second tear from her cheek with his thumb.

With a sharp pang of reluctance she stepped back, finally turning down the path to the waiting ship and ascending the gangway, stepping up beside Master Pakku at the stern. Zuko waved from below as the crew released the moorings, and she smiled through tear-blurred vision as they began to pull away.

Her mentor's arm circled her shoulders, giving them a comforting squeeze as Zuko's figure vanished into the horizon.

END OF BOOK II


End file.
